


It did nothing for me

by Dracky



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:28:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6364885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracky/pseuds/Dracky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old familiars sometimes show up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pearson, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a test chapter to see if I like this story better than the one(s) I haven't finished, sorry for that!  
> I feel like I have a little more freedom when it comes to a post-prison Franky.  
> This doesn't mean I won't update Found Guilty (or Your Mess Is Mine) anymore, actually I have written a bit of a start for a next Found Guilty chapter. ;)
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this little experiment!  
> I guess I just never fully commit to anything without having explored every possibility. ;)

Erica would call it a usual Saturday evening; she had all of her files and paperwork spread across the surface of the kitchen table and was standing at the long side of it, her hands placed on the wood, a fair distance away from one another as she rested her full weight on them. A deep frown cast a shadow over her eyes which always made her look angry when she was merely thinking. Mark was used to it now, which was why he didn’t ask. She couldn’t see him as her back was facing the living room, but she knew he was seated on the couch, watching some show about cars. It wasn’t how she preferred her Saturday evenings, but it was all for a good cause; their 5-year-old daughter was seated in a chair close to the television, not taking any interest in the fancy cars as she had an iPad laying in her lap. She was the reason Erica would take her work home every Wednesday evening. She knew many mothers who would simply call a babysitter, but she had sworn by it not to do the same. A child needed their parents, maybe their mother most. She was well aware of that.  
She hadn’t heard anyone walking up behind her and it startled her lightly to suddenly feel a hand resting on her hip. Looking up, she found the pair of brown eyes that so stood in contrast to her own. A chuckle rolled past her lips in a relieved sigh.  
“You startled me.” She mumbled.

“Am I that scary?” Was Marks witty reply. “How’s it going?”

Erica turned around, attempting to shield the paperwork on the table from Marks gaze as she noticed him snooping. “You know that’s confidential.”

“Says the one who spread it all out on our kitchen table.” Mark’s grin was charming. “You’ve been around this table for more than an hour.”

Erica sighed. “I can’t figure it out.” She wished she could explain more, talk about it; maybe that would enlighten something about the whole matter, unfortunately she wasn’t allowed to.

“It’s bedtime for Tar.” 

Erica responded with a knowing hum and a nod, turning around again to collect all the papers on the table and put them in a folder. As she made way to the living room, she watched how Mark tickled their daughter so that the young blonde would give the tablet to him.

“Alright, alright, you can have it!” she squealed, handing the device over.

“Come on, Tar.” Erica spoke softly, extending a hand for the girl as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Tara quickly escaped the ticklish torment of her father and ran over to Erica after climbing out of her chair.

“Do you think there’s someone watching over us?” Was Tara’s entirely unexpected question as Erica was just about to leave the small girl’s room after tucking her in. 

“What do you mean?” Erica moved back over, sitting down at Tara’s side and brushing a hand through the girl’s hair.

“Sam said there is someone in the sky who looks at us and takes care of us.”  
Much became clear to Erica once Sam appeared to have something to do with it, the boy’s parents being very religious.

“Do you believe it?” She asked.

Tara shrugged, pulling the covers a little closer to her chin. “I don’t know.” Her gaze found Erica’s. “Do you?”

Erica thought for a minute, then shrugged as well. “I don’t know.” Tara seemed to be fine with that answer as she nodded curtly before closing her eyes. This was a sign for Erica it was safe to head downstairs now. She pressed a gentle kiss to Tara’s forehead and got up, silently leaving the bedroom.

“Mark!” Erica hurried over to the kitchen table, starting to pick up the files that were spread out on it, annoyed by Mark’s snooping. “What part of confidential don’t you get?” She flashed the man a stern look, upon which he grinned.

“I’m trying to help.” Was Mark’s excuse, his puppy dog eyes be damned. 

Erica sighed, letting her shoulders hang and her head turn away from his gaze. “I don’t need your help, it’s my job, my case, my client.” She looked down at her hands. “If you have to stick your nose into it, then I’ll go back to my office.” 

“Come on...” Mark mumbled. “You’ve been silently standing at and pacing around the table all evening. You might as well go back to office, because you haven’t said a single thing to Tara.” It silenced Erica for a moment, not because she thought he had a point, but because she couldn’t believe how he dared to say that while he himself had been watching TV all evening. 

“What about you then?” She snapped, pulling a brow up as she looked back up at Mark.

“At least I reply to her when she asks me a question.” 

“She didn’t –“

“Yes, she did. And you ignored her.” Mark cut her off, shrugging nonchalantly as he took an apple from the fruit bowl in front of him. 

Erica couldn’t stand him in that moment, moments which happened to be occurring an increasingly lot lately. She and Mark had been married for almost six years now. About a month after her forced resignation from Wentworth, she discovered she was pregnant with Tara, a surprise both she and Mark hadn’t seen coming, which left her no choice but to finally agree on marriage. During the first few weeks, Erica felt nothing but regret, but as the days carried on, she rediscovered what she had seen in Mark through his sweetness and support and when Tara was born, she had felt genuinely happy. Wentworth was pushed to an area in the back of her mind, so was Franky Doyle. She began to like introducing herself as Erica Pearson.  
Now, her doubts showed up again sometimes caused by the (so far) small arguments after Tara’s bedtime. At least the girl didn’t have to hear any of it, but it made her regret them by day; she knew what kind of an impact arguing parents had on a child. Out of experience, because when she had been twelve years old, her own parents had divorced after weeks of arguing. She didn’t remember that time as a nice one. It wasn’t something she’d want to let Tara go through.

“This isn’t something to argue over.” She replied after a while.

The man scoffed, shaking his head. “Are there certain things to argue over then? Should we make a list, pick a new topic every other night?” He took a bite from his apple.

Raising her hands in a dismissive way, Erica sighed. “Never mind, Mark, this isn’t going anywhere.”

Mark shortly pulled a knowing expression, but he didn’t say anything. It surprised Erica. She moved over to find her briefcase in a chair, picking it up to set in on the table and store her paperwork away. “I’m sorry..” She mumbled after a little while. Mark didn’t reply. “I’m just tired, long day.” It was 8 PM, neither of them would go to sleep soon and Erica didn’t feel like spending the rest of the night pretending to deny each other’s existence. She heard a sigh behind her. 

“I’ll take Tara out to the playground tomorrow, okay? So you can take another look at those files without the two of us around.” Mark’s tone of voice had lost all its annoyance and had changed back to the sweet husband sort of tone. 

Erica nodded, turning around on her heels in order to face him. “Thank you.” 

Mark moved over to place a kiss to her forehead and she smiled. The doubts flashed through her head, but she didn’t allow them any ground because right in front of her was her caring husband.

It was nice working at home, not being distracted by her family’s activity; Mark had indeed gone out to the playground with Tara after lunch and it allowed Erica plenty of time to take another good look at her case. She had to have it all figured out by Wednesday. Her client was a middle-aged man who went by the name Clint Tobias; a car mechanic and single parent to one kid. The kid, sixteen-years-old Steff Tobias, went to Nichols’ High, a school just outside the city of which one of the teachers, Frank Harvey had recently had a lethal car accident. That might sound like an incoherent whole, except Clint was the one accused of murdering the teacher; the man’s car had been sabotaged and it appeared that Steff couldn’t really get along with his teacher. The police put two and two together and it led them to the mechanic; a mistake, because he was innocent or so he claimed, but who was going to prove that? Erica was willing to give it a shot, but it hadn’t led her any further than vague assumptions. She had checked on Tobias’ customer register and Harvey’s name couldn’t be found in it, but that was hardly solid proof, because these registers were easily manipulated. Harvey hardly had any enemies and there were no family members she could address, because the only one – the teacher’s twin brother – lived somewhere in Russia and his contact details couldn’t be found anywhere in Harvey’s apartment. It was a man without a family and Erica considered it rather sad there would only be some colleagues and a handful of friends at his funeral. 

The doorbell startled her and she needed a moment to get back into the real world where other people also existed and sometimes needed her attention. Not expecting anyone, she was quite curious who she’d stumble upon when opening the door. A quick glance at the clock told her she had wasted too much time on the case already.  
Upon the sight of an all too familiar face, Erica shook her head, quite dumbfound but certain to shut the door as soon as possible.

“Pearson, huh?” A dark brow was pulled up above a pair of deep green eyes.

Erica could hardly believe it. “I don’t want you here.”

“I figured,” a small silence fell. “Especially after finding out there was no use in trying to find Erica Davidson, ‘cause you got yourself a nice new name now.” 

“I’m sorry, but you should leave.” Erica was willing to just throw the door closed, but her decency was stopping her.

The woman in front of her snorted. “I’m out of fucking prison, got myself a job, almost got my law degree, found a nice apartment and I got my life on the tracks. And you can’t even so much as crack a smile for seeing I turned out fine?”

“Then what are you doing here?” Truly Erica was glad Franky seemed to have turned out fine indeed, but she didn’t see why the brunette needed to have that confirmed. 

“I thought it would be nice to see you.” The woman gave an innocent shrug. Erica hardly believed that.

A small silence fell and the two women just stared at each other for a second. It wasn’t the kind of stare they’d exchanged many times back at Wentworth. Erica didn’t want anything to do with Franky and her glance clearly showed that, Franky’s gaze was calculating and far from deviant. It shortly gave Erica the time to reflect on what Franky was wearing, after all she had never seen the ex-inmate in casual clothing and it was about the only interesting thing about the brunette’s visit; Franky wore a pair of black combat boots under some slightly worn jeans, her dark green shirt with an abstract texture going hidden behind a black leather jacket. It wouldn’t surprise Erica if Franky had a motorbike, which made her wonder, but she didn’t allow herself to ask; it showed interest and she wasn’t interested. 

“That’s not why you’re here.” Erica eventually spoke out her earlier thoughts.

Franky shook her head. “No, it’s not…” She admitted. “Will you talk?” 

Erica’s glance shot to the floor and she let a long sigh roll past her lips. There was a split second of doubt and Erica hated it, because now she wouldn’t be able to say no with a hundred percent devotion. Franky was able enough to see that one little crack, which made it very important to get the door closed as soon as possible. “No.” 

Franky shrugged. “Alright, no hard feelings.” The very ease with which those words left the brunette’s lips suggested the exact opposite. “Goodbye, Erica.” She gave a saluting gesture with her hand and turned around on her heels, not wasting another second at the blonde’s doorstep. Erica quickly went back inside, content with her choice. She didn’t quite get the time to reflect on what had just happened, because not more than half a minute later, her phone started ringing. She first had to search through half of the living room before finding the iPhone next to the fridge in the kitchen. 

“Erica Pearson speaking.” She spoke in her business-like tone; the number on her display hadn’t been recognized.

“Hello, Mrs. Pearson, Sarah Oakman here. I’m Frank Harvey’s colleague. Your email said you wanted to speak to me about his murder?”

“Oh, yes. Do you think you know anything about it?” Erica was aware she sounded a little absentminded while she walked to her living room.

“I know a few things about Frank.” 

“Great, can we meet somewhere? Or could you come to my office tomorrow? I don’t like to have these kind of conversations over a phone call.” She sat down on her couch.

It took a while before Sarah answered… “Of course, I’m actually having coffee right now at Gina’s. Do you know that place?” 

“I do… See you in a few minutes.” Erica waited for a response before ringing off and getting right back onto her feet. She was actually pretty sure Sarah could be of no use for the murder case, but in all her desperation to find something at least, she had sent out e-mails to each and every person Frank knew well, according to Facebook, that she hadn’t spoken to yet. So far only Sarah found herself willing to talk. At least Erica now felt like she was doing something with the case, instead of acknowledging she was stuck. She quickly collected her coat and purse, texting Mark she would probably be still out when he returned but she’d be home for dinner. She didn’t tell where she was off to. 

Gina’s was the kind of place you’d get a free coffee at if you visited regularly, where the owners get to know you and remember you even when you hadn’t been there for ages. Erica was such an old familiar; she never really had the time for a coffee at Gina’s anymore and the last coffee she had there was on her last day at Wentworth. Still the owner, a woman whose experience with life could be seen on her face, greeted her like an old friend, kindly offering her that free coffee and a seat. The coffee she took, the seat she kindly rejected as her eyes scanned around for a woman who she’d consider carried the name Sarah. There weren’t too many people, but it took her a while to find a fairly young, blonde woman in the corner of the small place. She walked over.

“Sarah Oakman?” She carefully disturbed the woman from staring outside. 

“That’s me.” Sarah confirmed, her head nodding shortly while she shot Erica a kind smile.

Erica reached her hand out, receiving a soft handshake, a handshake Erica thought represented Sarah’s entire personality; soft and kind, all good, barely a flaw. The small woman’s face was fair and spotless, her eyes green with a slightly grey tone to them, laying deep beneath her brows, causing a shadow to cast over her eyes, however they did nothing to the look of friendliness. 

“Thank you for seeing me.” Erica began with, taking the seat opposite Sarah, her legs crossing as she took her coffee from Gina. 

“I just hope they find out who murdered Frank, that would make things easier.” 

“You knew him well?” Erica sounded more suspicious than she intended to and this was noticed by Sarah. “I’m sorry, I’m a little distracted at the moment.” Erica quickly excused herself. Sarah nodded. 

“I knew him quite well. We never actually went out to do something together, but he was always a nice guy at work. Actually I don’t see why anyone would want him dead.”

“Did you know about his dislike of Steff Tobias?” Erica wondered.

Sarah shook her head, sipping her coffee before answering. “He never spoke of that, or any of his students for that matter.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

“Not that I know of.” Sarah had raised her brows.

“It was just a question.”

“He wasn’t a bad guy.”  
“I’m not saying that he was, but as far as I’m concerned every teacher speaks of their students with colleagues.”

“We talk about their grades, nothing more.” Sarah shrugged.

“What do you teach, if I may ask?” Erica narrowed her eyes.

“Mathematics.” Sarah frowned for a second. “I didn’t expect this conversation to become some sort of interrogation.” 

Erica sighed. “It’s not an interrogation, I’m sorry if it feels that way. I just need information.” She paused, stirring her coffee for a second. “Did Frank ever speak of Steff’s father?”

“Steff’s father often came for parent meetings at school, but that’s all.” 

“Steff and Frank hated each other. You do not know of that at all?” It made no sense to Erica. While she was in high school, hateful relationships between teachers and students were well known through the entire school. 

“I know Steff was sent to the principle sometimes, mostly by Frank, but also by other teachers. He’s a stubborn young man.” 

“How would you describe his father?” Erica already felt like she was indeed not getting anything useful out of the conversation. She took a sip of her coffee.

“I haven’t spoken to him much, but I wouldn’t say he looked very friendly.” 

Erica thought for a moment, watching as a jogger passed by the window. “Is there anything else you’d like to share?” She asked, shifting her gaze back to look at Sarah. 

Sarah frowned lightly, the shadow above her eyes growing darker but hardly any more threatening. “I don’t think so… I just don’t think Mr Tobias has done it.” She mumbled. 

“Why not?” Erica was curious.

“Because he still shows up to drop his son off at school every morning. He’d have to be very heartless.” Sarah’s expression turned very thoughtful. 

“Unfortunately that’s not a solid argument.” Erica sighed. 

“You seem very tense.” Sarah suddenly mumbled, giving Erica a wondering look. Erica was caught off guard, her brows raising as she was unsure what to say in return. “You’re a hard working woman, I can tell, but maybe you should take it a little easier. I know this because I had a burnout three years ago. Don’t let that happen to you.” 

“I’m fine.” Erica responded. “But thank you for your concern, Ms Oakman.” She was impressed; for a maths teacher Sarah was quite a good observer of human behaviour. Erica was rather stressed about the case, about Mark, about Franky suddenly appearing at her doorstep. She wasn’t quite as fine as she spoke out, but she was still fine enough not to get stuck in a burnout. 

“I studied psychology before I ended up teaching maths.” Sarah explained without being asked to. She was trying to get a conversation going.  
“That explains it.” Erica grimaced, cupping her coffee with both her hands. “What made you change your mind about psychology?” she decided to show some interest for as long as she still hadn’t finished her coffee. 

“I don’t know, it kind of scared me at some point.” Sarah snorted softly. 

“Well, math kind of scared me at high school.” Erica chuckled almost soundlessly, shaking her head as she apologised.

Sarah told her it was okay. “People often ask me why I’m teaching math. You know, long blond hair, green eyes, no grandmas clothes.” She chuckled as well. “stereotypes.” She added.

“I must say I wonder.” Erica admitted, getting the vague feeling Sarah was the kind of woman who could’ve taken over the world if she had wanted, but who was fine with just being able to pay her bills. 

“I just like to teach and I sure as hell wasn’t going to teach History.” 

Erica grinned lightly. “Your students must like you.”

“Most of them do.” Sarah shrugged. 

“Excuse me, I have one more question, if you don’t mind.” Erica interrupted the current subject, feeling a little rude, but wanting to have it asked, considering she could see the bottom of her cup when she swirled the coffee around a little. “Do you know any of Frank’s friends?”

Sarah thought. “He didn’t talk about himself a lot. I only know of this one friend he could get along with very well.”

“Do you have a name?”

Sarah shook her head. “Can’t remember, but it was a woman.”

Franky was disappointed. It’s not that she needed Erica Davidson or Pearson or whatever the hell her name was now in her life, just that the blonde owed her an apology, an explanation, something. The blonde owed her something but wasn’t willing to give it to her. The kiss back at Wentworth had been the ultimate test and Erica’s response had been quite clear. Franky wouldn’t believe it meant nothing, even not after all these years. She was still angry and in order to move on she needed to get rid of that anger. She was doing alright, was managing most of her issues right, but a recent event had made a mess out of her mind again. She had lost too many people before and just when she thought she had a solid handful of friends, one of them had slipped right through her fingers. It had just been a reminder that even outside prison, where everything seemed ten times brighter, the world still wasn’t perfect and the most fucked up things still happened. That hit Franky hard. 

A man bumped into her, mumbling an apology before continuing his way. Franky looked around, a cool breeze doing wonders for the heat inside of her head. The streets weren’t exactly busy and she was more than fine with that. Everyone spent their Sunday afternoon mindlessly watching television or scrolling through endless Facebook posts. Franky had been rather mind blown at how much technology had taken over the world during the five years she had spent out of society. It kind of scared her at first, but now she mostly saw the benefits of it. She decided she needed a drink, heading left at the end of the street where she knew a small bar was located. The barman knew her, but only the more timid, blunt version of her, because only that version showed up at his bar.  
“Haven’t seen you in a while.” Was the first thing the man said. He was the typical kind of barman; with a beer belly and a rag hanging from the pocket of his pants. His voice betrayed he was a smoker and his eyes told a sad story. 

Franky perched on the barstool nearest to the man, setting both her elbows on the wooden surface of the bar and rubbing her face with both her hands for a second. “Life’s been fucking kind to me lately.” Sounded her muffled voice.

“Not anymore?” The man asked, pouring Franky a beer. 

She shook her head. 

“Here,” he put the beer in front of her. “Should work for a while.”

Franky could feel the man’s dark brown eyes were watching her and she removed her face from her hands, tracing the edge of her glass with the index finger of her right hand as the other supported her head. “Do you ever miss old friends?”

She loved how shallow her relationship with this man was; she knew his name was Patrick, but that was it. He knew nothing about her and he never asked, which she was very grateful of. He listened, nodded, then went back to drying off the dishes without talking much. After having lived with a psychologist for more than a year, these kind of people were the ones Franky wanted to be surrounded with. She hated long stretched conversations about feelings and emotions before, but now she hated them even more after she and Bridget broke up because she simply couldn’t handle all the disastrous questions and continuous talking.

“They’re old friends for a reason.” Patrick mumbled matter-of-factly.

Franky had to give that a thought. “But what would you do if an old friend came back at you?” She asked, well aware her situation with Erica wasn’t exactly that of ‘old friends’. 

Patrick shrugged, throwing his rag over his shoulder and leaning against the bar. “I’d give them a chance.” He paused. “But just a tiny one.” Once again he didn’t ask. 

Franky considered that, taking down half of her glass at once before she allowed the place a quick glance around. There were a few men playing cards at a table, one of which shot her a single stare, making her eyes focus on Patrick again. “A pretty good mate of mine died in a car accident three weeks ago.” She wasn’t sure why she mentioned it. 

“I’m sorry to hear.” 

“Yeah… some fucker decided to kill him by sabotaging his car.” She didn’t mean to sound this blunt, but she somehow always did when talking to Patrick. 

“So the teacher from the newspaper was your friend then?” He seemed curious for the first time ever. Which looked funny, because his already big eyes became even bigger when he pulled his brows up. 

“Yeah, Frank was my friend.” She emphasized the name. “Funny, hm? Frank and Franky.”

Patrick snorted. “Sounds like some children’s book. With all due respect.”

“You’re right.” Franky snorted in return. She could take any wrongly timed joke from Patrick. 

“Another one?” The man nodded at the empty glass in front of Franky.

She was surprised with herself, not even having noticed downing the glass. She nodded at Patrick’s question, once again looking around the bar as he took off to pour her another beer. She deliberately skipped past the men who were still playing cards, her stare shifting to a woman sitting a few feet away from her. She had to be halfway life, or she just looked old for her age. Anyway Franky wondered why every in there always looked so miserable. Which also made her wonder if she looked the same. She hoped not. 

“That’s Sue.” Patrick mumbled from behind the bar. “Don’t end up going here every day, or that’s gonna be you in a few years.” He winked at Franky, shoving the new beer across the bar, toward her. 

Franky chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Over my dead body… No offence.” Patrick shrugged. A ringing noise came from the pocket of Franky’s jeans, indicating someone was trying to call her. She didn’t feel like picking up, but was curious to see who was attempting to reach her. 

The screen didn’t show a name, only a number she didn’t recall to know. This only made her more curious and despite not feeling like picking up, she did so anyway. “Franky speaking.”

“Francesca Doyle?” A male voice spoke. 

“That’s me.” Franky already regretted picking up. This man sounded like someone she didn’t want to talk to. 

“This is Christiano Diaz, Chief of the Melbourne Police Department. May I ask you a couple of questions about Frank Harvey’s murder case?”

Franky supressed a sigh. “I don’t know anything about it. You probably already know everything I know.” She ignored Patricks asking sideways glance as he poured Sue something strong. 

“You knew Frank well, am I right?” Franky confirmed that. “But you don’t know of any bad relationships or other issues?” The officer sounded hopeful. 

“No.” Franky replied bluntly. She wasn’t too fond of the police. 

“Then I’m sorry for disturbing you. Do contact us when you remember something we could use. I am sorry for your loss.” 

Franky thanked him and rang off with a sigh, once again downing half of her beer. “Fucking cops.”

“Not a fan?” Patrick had returned to her. 

“You could say that. They’ve done me more harm than they’ve ever helped me.” She had never mentioned Wentworth. 

Patrick gave her shoulder a soft nudge. “Keep your head up, Franks, life’s a bitch to all of us. You sometimes just have to spit in her face and make your own luck.”

Franky nodded in return grimacing up at Patrick. He always used a sentence like this to indirectly tell her she had spent long enough wasting her time at his bar, only this time the words came way earlier than expected. “Want me gone already?” She joked, grinning lopsidedly.

“Finish your beer and go kick today’s ass, Franky.” He meant it. 

She left some money next to her empty glass when she was finished, leaving the place with quite the elated feeling. She felt like Patrick could always cheer her up, but that could be an illusion, the alcohol actually doing the trick instead. Who knew, she didn’t care to find out. 

The streets looked brighter, busier, more alive. People looked happier and she felt a little more at home in this world again. She wouldn’t exactly kick today’s ass, she knew, but she’d probably spit life in the face by going home, taking a nice bath and making a real Sunday out of her day, telling each and every one of her responsibilities to fuck off for a while as she’d take some time for herself and herself alone. When she started wondering if Erica was thinking about her, she mentally told the blonde to fuck off as well; she had given the old friend a tiny chance and it hadn’t been taken. 

The woman wasn’t worth her anger, even though that anger would see another day.


	2. Business ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, a second chapter!  
> I already feel like this story has more potential than my other fics.  
> (Feel free to (dis)agree in the comment section ;) )
> 
> Enjoy!

Erica had never been too fond of forests; the tall trees were intimidating as they blocked out every ray of sunlight. They were staring down at her and she felt little and alone. She couldn’t exactly remember how she had ended up trying to find her way back to civilization, out of the stifling density of the forest, and she had no idea which direction to take. She kept walking and walking, but it didn’t take her any further. Looking down made her realise she wasn’t wearing any shoes but strangely that hardly even surprised her. What did surprise her was the sudden sight in front of her; a huge wall, about half as tall as the trees but at least twice as impressive. Resting a hand upon the cold concrete, a slight bit of panic arose. She felt trapped, even more trapped than she had felt before when there were only trees, and the sudden feeling of a hand being placed upon her shoulder made her heart skip a beat. She turned around at once, her eyes falling upon a silhouette without clear features. All she could see was the teal before she briefly saw nothing at all. 

“Mom, I made breakfast for you!” Tara spoke enthusiastically once her mother showed some signs of being awake after she had nudged the woman’s shoulder for a while. When Erica opened her eyes, she found the blonde girl sitting beside her on the bed. Tara’s smile worked contagious. “Dad is downstairs, he’s waiting for us. I made breakfast.” 

“Did you help your dad?” Erica mumbled sleepily once the relief of realising she had merely been dreaming had passed. The girl nodded frantically. “Go downstairs and tell him I’ll be there in a minute, okay?” Once again the girl nodded and she went off. 

Erica pushed the covers from her body, embracing the sunrays that shone through the curtains, thankful there were no trees to block them anymore. She stretched, a yawn automatically following along as her eyes fell on the digital clock at Mark’s side of the bed: 7 AM. She had expected it to be earlier. Pushing herself to her feet, she needed a moment to dismiss the dizziness from her mind, placing a hand onto her forehead and taking a second. Once her mind was clear from its drowsy state, she tried to remember her events scheduled for the day as she made way for the sink in the bathroom. First she or Mark would take Tara to school, then she’d have a conversation with Steff Tobias, her client’s son, something she wasn’t quite looking forward to after all the things Sarah Oakman had told her about the teenager. He promised to be a troublesome boy. She had promised her best friend to go for a drink at the end of the day. She would possibly need the drink. After having splashed some water in her face, she decided not to let Tara wait any longer. 

“You have to sit next to me.” Tara’s small hands clutched at a chair at the kitchen table. She attempted to tug it backwards but wasn’t very successful. Erica took over, perching on the chair, next to her daughter. 

“I think I’ll let Tara do the cooking from now on.” Mark spoke up from the opposite side of the table, grinning at the little blonde. Tara smiled proudly. Once again the smile was contagious. 

A small silence fell and Erica took the moment to cut her omelette and take a bite. “This is really good.” She spoke instantly, nodding aside at Tara. It wasn’t anything special, but the girl was very proud of it. Erica wouldn’t spoil the fun of course. “Dad has got some competition.”

At first, Tara grinned cheekily, but then she shook her head. “No, dad’s still the best cook in the world.” 

Erica lifted a brow at Mark. “Did you promise her anything?” 

Mark shook his head, his expression going innocent. “That one was straight from the heart.”

They finished breakfast together and decided Erica would be the one to bring Tara to school before work, something the girl didn’t really agree on because she liked Mark’s Porsche better. Still she could eventually be found on the backseat of her mother’s Audi. Just when Erica had secured her seatbelt and made the engine growl, she noticed Mark walking up to here from their front door, holding something small in his hand and waving it at her. Erica rolled down the window.

“Forgot to give you this, I think it’s meant for you.” He gave her something that appeared to be a piece of paper, and a goodbye kiss before heading back into the house. 

Erica was curious, surprised even, but she put the little piece of paper on the empty seat next to her when Tara had begun to impatiently kick the back of her seat. The little girl was right; she’d be late for school if Erica wouldn’t drive off. 

The first thing Franky did when she woke up at 9 AM was check her phone for any missed calls. She had convinced herself not to let her very short conversation with Erica bother her any further after she had seen Patrick, but the damage had already been done. The blonde had sent her away and this alone was something she hadn’t liked; she had been looking for answers, an apology and a lot more, things she was quite determined to get. Erica couldn’t just turn her down like that. She was Franky Doyle after all. As soon as her pretending not to care had been convincing enough for Erica to have closed the door, she had stopped dead in her tracks, turning around and walking back in order to leave a note inside the blondes mailbox. She had deliberately manipulated her own handwriting a little bit, considering Erica to be clever enough to remember and figure out if she wouldn’t have. All the note said was ‘call me’ with her phone number written below. She had hoped that if the husband would find the note first, he’d pass it on to Erica upon not recognizing the number. She was sure the blondes curious nature wouldn’t let her down when receiving the note. So now she couldn’t help but check her phone, with Patrick’s words still echoing through the back of her mind. Hadn’t she survived her most hectic period at Wentworth without Erica around? Why did she need her now? She had never really craved for her dads apologies, why did she want Erica’s? Her own mind was interrogating her and she didn’t have the answers. 

She needed something to do, something to get her mind off of it or else she’d be going mental by the end of the day. A quick glance at the outside world when she opened the blinds told her it was a perfect morning to go for a run. After having a quick and easy breakfast and browsing through her university mailbox, she dressed in some grey jogging pants and a simple blue top, tying her hair up in a playful ponytail and collecting her iPod and earbuds. She shuffle played a playlist she had put together especially for these kind of mindless jogs, leaving her small apartment and hurrying down the stairs into the street. Most people had already gone to work and the roads were quite empty. Only elderly couples strolled down the pavements, and when Franky entered the park, a few lucky dog owners spent their morning calmly walking with their furry friends. Franky didn’t like dogs. Especially when they barked it brought back memories of her cell being swooped by those hungry looking creatures. As a kid she had always wanted a dog. She remembered a birthday party at some rich kid’s house, also remembering how the grey husky that kid’s parents owned had been the only fun thing about that very party. After that day she had spent weeks of asking for a dog herself, at which her mother usually snapped “We don’t even have the money to take care of you.” This was when her father had still been in the picture. When she had been left with only her mother, she had never dared to ask for anything, because a beating would be all she’d get. She wondered if that was where her dislike of dogs had originally came from, and if Wentworth had only made that dislike stronger. She decided to make a quick exit out of the park, not really liking the memories the dogs called up, turning left the minute the path allowed it, passing an elementary school. It wasn’t her usual route and she needed a moment to plan the rest of it, deciding to go around the park and take the same route back from there. As she had fully passed the school, her eyes fell upon another building. 

Erica’s office felt like the Sahara dessert. The air conditioning obviously hadn’t been working overnight and the first thing she did after dropping her suitcase on the desk was opening every window in the room. Once she was content enough with the amount of cool air blowing through her office, she took a seat at her desk, switching her computer on and picking up the note Mark had given her in the process of waiting for the computer to start up. She read it, then thought, then read it again. She recognized handwriting nor number and she was wary. She had taken a publicly dangerous case. To any simple soul, Tobias was guilty. Threats weren’t a rarity on these kind of cases and she didn’t want to conflict that upon herself by calling the number. However she was curious, which made her thoughts a never ending circle. Fortunately her computer soon required a passwords, taking her mind off of the note as she tossed it back onto her desk. She logged on, opening some files related to the case and took a pen and a notebook, ready to take notes as it wouldn’t take long for Stef to arrive. 

“Hi.” Franky looked up from the old red Ford she was checking out as a man left the office of the building she had entered. He was wiping his hands with a dirty rag. “Can I help you?” 

For a second Franky was rather impressed by the man’s broad posture, however she quickly pulled herself together. “Yeah, I was – eh.” What was she? Another impulsive action had landed her into a situation in which she had made explaining herself quite the task at hand. “I was running past this place,” she made a hand gesture toward the entrance. “and I saw the Ford so I wanted to take a look.” She knew it had to sound odd, she also didn’t know a first thing about cars. 

The man’s face brightened. “So you’re a car fan then?”

“Yeah.” Franky answered without thinking. But before the man could ask anything complex, she introduced a new subject. “Hey, isn’t this Clint Tobias’ place? He’s your boss, right?”

The man sighed. “A lot of people have passed by, asking for him. If you wanna know about that teacher, keep an eye on the newspapers.”

“No, see…” Franky began, her mind working at top speed to come up with a good excuse to get to know more about Tobias. “I’m actually asking for him because he’s supposed to be an old friend of my dad’s. I don’t know anything about my dad, so…” She considered a personal matter couldn’t be declined just like that. 

“Oh,” was the man’s first reaction, which told her it had worked. “Well, I’m sorry, he’s not around.” He looked genuinely sorry, which made Franky feel genuinely sorry for lying. “I could leave your number, if you want.”

“No, I’m moving to France tomorrow, today is my last chance, actually.” The more nonsense she spoke, the sorrier she felt. “Do you know where he is?”

The man shrugged. “He’s seeing his lawyer, I believe. Don’t know where.” He leant against the roof of the red Ford. “I’m sorry I can’t be of any use.”

Franky sent over a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay. Thank you.”

“Good luck in France.” It was quite endearing how genuine the man was. 

He was the very reason Franky was glad to be outside again, swearing under her breath as she hadn’t really gotten any further and she couldn’t show her face at the repair shop again. She told herself to let the matter go. To let this lawyer the man had been speaking of figure everything out and wait for the outcome of the running case. However she knew the outcome didn’t have to be the truth. If this lawyer was a good one, they would get the not guilty for Tobias regardless of the actual facts. Franky wanted to know the truth. She had to know who killed her friend and she was quite determined to find out. 

Just by the way Stef Tobias was seated at the other side of her desk, Erica could tell the upcoming conversation wasn’t going to be of much use. The teenager’s crossed arms and bored stare irked her. Clint had left the office on his son’s request and was probably getting himself a coffee. Now Erica felt like a lawyer and a babysitter. 

“So, Steff…” she spoke, trying not to sound too reluctant. “I would like to ask you a few questions, and if you prove yourself useful, I would also like you to be my witness.” All she received was a shrug.

“Listen, you might be the key to your father’s release of all charges.”

“I don’t know anything.” Stef’s expression made Erica count to ten. 

“You must know something about Mr. Harvey.” 

“He was mad.” All the while the boy hadn’t given Erica a single look.

“Why do you think so?” Erica asked curiously, forgetting for a second Stef would most likely not let anything go. He shrugged again. “Stef, I need to know things. About your father, about Mr. Harvey. If I don’t get to know things, your father will serve time in prison.” She was slightly annoyed.

Finally Stef looked at her. “I don’t know you.”

“No, you don’t.” Erica sighed. “but that doesn’t mean you can’t trust me.” 

Another shrug. 

“Stef…” Erica began. 

“Listen, I don’t want to talk to you, okay? My dad didn’t do anything, and I didn’t ask for this. You make him look like a fucking criminal, but he isn’t.” The boy only then seemed to realise he had risen to his feet, quickly sitting back down before Erica could say anything about it. 

She was rather taken aback. Her gaze fell to a point on the desk in front of her and her hands folded on the surface, moving them up and down as she thought. “The police make him look like a criminal. I’m here to prove them wrong.” She tried to soothe Stef a little. “But I can’t do that without your help.” She frowned as she noticed a tear slowly roll down Stef’s cheek. 

“Those teachers are always mad at me. It’s always my fault. And now they say it’s my dad’s. Anyone could’ve sabotaged that car. You don’t need to know shit about cars for that.” 

“Anything you say could help your father. It could prove you right.” Erica spoke gently, carefully. 

Stef looked at her, his emerald eyes shooting her a vulnerable gaze. Somehow they struck Erica right in the soul. “I don’t know anything… My dad would just never kill anybody.”

Erica nodded. “Alright,” she sighed softly. “Do you think you would be able to tell this in court?”

“How’s that gonna help?” Stef sniffled. 

“People are easily touched. Judges are people too.” She explained, knowing it would sound rather harsh had she not spoken as softly as she could manage. 

The boy across from her nodded, his hand wiping away the tear that was now dangling from his pointy chin. “I’ll try.”

Franky checked her phone again the second she got home, sighing heavily at the lack of missed calls. She was rather certain Erica had to have her note by now and she was beginning to doubt the blondes curiosity. Her mind had fully gone back to overthinking mode, the jog not proving itself useful for very long. She took a shower, then dressed properly, reading 11AM from the clock on her wall. Maybe she had to go back to Erica’s. Maybe that was the one and only way to get the blonde to listen to her. But it would damage her dignity, because she would never be the one to come running back at a girl. She buried her face in her hands as she sat on her couch, her elbows resting on her knees, the TV softly playing in the back. “She’ll fucking call.” She tried to convince herself, then moved to get her laptop, once again checking her mailbox. The fact that it was empty didn’t really help much. She had absolutely nothing to do and she hated it. It were moments like these in which she did kind of miss Bridget. There was never silence with the woman around as Bridget was simply unable to ever sit still. There was always the sound of rummaging and feet padding across the floor. Now all she heard was the dull talk show playing on her TV. Until the point it began to annoy her when she switched it off. The utter and thorough silence that followed was about twice as bad. However her heart skipped a beat as her phone went off on the other side of the room. She quickly threw her laptop aside on the couch, jumping to her feet as she moved over to her kitchen table where she collected her phone. A single glance at the display showed her a name she hadn’t been hoping for. 

“Hey.” She spoke, trying not to sound too disappointed. 

“Hey, I sent you a few texts, but you didn’t respond. So I decided to call. Eh – do you know the main points for Wednesday’s assignment? My laptop crashed, so I lost everything.”

Franky had to take a moment to process all the information given by her fellow student. Once it dawned to her what the young and way too enthusiastic woman on the other side had asked for, she hurried back to her laptop. “Yeah, give me a moment…” Opening Word, she found the assignment along with the main points. “I’ll text them to you, okay?” She then asked as she didn’t feel like naming all of them. 

“Alright. Thank you so much!” Judging by the sound of the young woman’s voice, Franky was really helping her out. On the other hand, the girl always sounded like that. 

She replied with a casual ‘no problem’ before disconnecting, taking a picture of the assignment and texting it to the other student, also noticing the texts the woman had sent, four texts with an overload of emoji. She hadn’t really overcome her disappointment yet, really having expected to hear Erica’s voice again. Maybe she’d become the girl who’d run back after all. The thought didn’t appeal to her. She wasn’t like that. She played hard to get, Erica wouldn’t be the exception. 

Erica had only just been alone for half an hour when David, a man in his late forties whose office was located next to her own, knocked on her door. She spoke up to invite the man inside and looked up from the paperwork in front of her, her stare instantly falling on a dossier David waved through the air. 

“This was dropped off at my office, but it’s got your name on it.” His small mouth made a considering twitch as he moved over to drop the dossier on her desk. 

Erica took it, giving it a quick once over and looking back up at the tall figure in front of her. “Thank you.” She had always disliked something about the man’s appearance. His face suggested he was younger than he really was, although his short hair was mostly grey. Most women would consider him quite handsome, George Clooney-like even, but something about the cold stare in his almost black eyes sent chills down Erica’s spine. 

“How’s the family doing?” David didn’t seem all too genuinely interested, and Erica knew why. He’d only like to know if things weren’t going well between her and Mark, which was kind of the case, and she wouldn’t like him being aware of that. 

“Great.” She replied simply, shifting her focus back to the computer screen in front of her as to say she didn’t really have time to talk. 

“I see, you’re busy. I’m sorry, Erica.” He sent over a perfectly white smile and a wink. “We can talk some other time.” Was what he finished with before her turned on his heels and exited the office. Erica would rather not talk to him some other time.

Considering it, she didn’t even know too much about David Shutter. But his appearance told everything about him; he was the kind of man who’d bribe his women with presents, who wouldn’t let go and it wouldn’t even surprise Erica if he went to strip clubs every other Friday night. Not the kind of man she’d like to converse with. At least he was gone now, but she had to get up to close the door behind him. As she was on her feet now anyway, she took the new dossier and browsed through it while pacing in small circles through her office. It was a dossier she had asked for at the police department four days ago, containing all the phone numbers of people in Frank Harvey’s contact list. There were about thirty and Erica recognized none, until she did. She frowned at it, mumbled the number a couple of times, then hurried over to her desk, picking up the little mysterious note and putting it next to the dossier. One of the numbers matched, which made a thousand questions pop up into her mind. She didn’t know anyone who also knew Frank, except Sarah Oakman, but she had the woman’s number saved in her phone so this one wasn’t the math teacher’s. She hadn’t spoken to any other of Frank’s friends yet and his family was non-existent, except for his brother, but he lived in Russia. Was this person willing to help her and was that why they had left their number in her mailbox? Maybe they had been at her door, but there was nobody home so they left the note. It sounded logical, except that Erica had been home all day the day before. She should’ve noticed. It all didn’t make sense to her, which made her wary and curious at the same time. Did this person know she was Clint Tobias’ attorney? The ones closest to Frank likely wanted to see someone punished for the murder, and as Clint was currently the only candidate, they would not like her very much for trying to prevent that punishment from happening. She was wary indeed, but really wanted to know. At least she knew which number to call first. 

Before taking any action, she retrieved a coffee, taking a small break to once again think things through, trying to see if she had missed out on anything the previous day. She had been rather focussed on her work at hand, but she wouldn’t have missed the doorbell. Franky Doyle’s inconvenient appearance proved that. She wasn’t able to figure things out before her cup was empty, meaning the only thing that rested was to just call the number. Throwing the coffee cup in the bin next to her desk, she leant back into her chair, dialling the number from the note and impatiently waiting for anyone to pick up. It took mere seconds until someone spoke up on the other side, the familiar voice startling her, making her freeze in her chair and unable to speak.

“Hello?” Franky spoke as there was no response from the unknown caller, her heart racing as this time it had to be Erica. 

Of course it was Franky, Erica could’ve guessed. Had she really thought the brunette would let go just like that? Franky had already taken the effort to appear at her doorstep, of course it couldn’t be just that, not after all the time that had passed. Erica mentally kicked herself for having looked past that. But how was Franky connected to Frank Harvey? 

“Erica?” Franky tried her luck. 

It brought the blonde back to the present moment. She took a deep breath and rubbed her brow with her free hand, her eyes closing for a second. “Did you know Frank Harvey?” She decided to ask all at once. If the answer was no, she’d ring off immediately. 

The question confused Franky; out of all things, she hadn’t expected Erica to begin about her deceased friend. She didn’t let it bother her, though, as she was already quite relieved it was indeed Erica who had called her. “Yeah, I did.” She responded simply, waiting for an explanation as to why Erica asked. 

Erica found herself unable to judge the answer; it wasn’t pleasing, yet not disappointing. “Can we meet somewhere?” She had to process things first, before she would be able to proceed a proper conversation with Franky. It all had her very confused. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” Erica could just hear the grin in Franky’s words, even when she couldn’t see it, it was still charming. 

Franky had collected her leather jacket as quickly as she managed, her mood having gotten quite the boost now that she had received the expected call. It was short, but far from disappointing as she was now on her way to meet the blonde at the lunchroom next to the little bar she always went to. She wondered what Patrick would think if her saw her walking in with the blonde, and decided she’d convince Erica of going for a drink next door. Their topic of conversation would most likely be Frank, which was odd, but also rather interesting. With her hands stuffed in the pockets of her open jacket, she strolled down the rather busy street, her eyes falling on mothers with young children and elderly couples who were out for a walk. She watched a young mom who stood in front of a small store, trying to get her son to stop screaming, her cheeks flushing red as the entire street seemed to look at her. These were the moments in which Franky knew for sure she didn’t want kids, ever. She felt quite sorry for the woman. She kind of envied the elderly couples; during the first two months of her relationship with Bridget, she was rather certain what her life would look like. It had been her first ever relationship she had been able to fully commit to and during those two months, she was convinced it had to be the last. It took merely half a year to prove her wrong. Every time she thought about it she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever find someone she could spend an eternity with. 

“Hey.” Erica spoke simply as Franky approached her at the table in the lunchroom. The brunette looked far too smug for her likings. 

“Hey.” Franky returned while pulling a seat back from the table at which Erica was seated, taking a shameless lingering look at the blonde’s figure, admiring the formal outfit that hid her skin. Erica was an extremely sexy and classy woman, and the more unattainable the blonde looked, the more Franky liked it. 

Erica crossed her arms on the table’s surface, serving as a shield against Franky’s gaze. She already wondered why meeting the brunette had seemed like a good idea. “I’m only here for business purposes.” 

Franky innocently threw her hands up in the air as she sat down. “I’ll stay on my end of the table, don’t worry.”

The cocky remark drew a sigh from Erica. She picked up the menu and took a look at it, eventually ordering a baguette with chicken, pesto, sundried tomato and lettuce. Franky picked one with roasted chicken. 

“So you knew Frank Harvey?” Erica spoke up once the waitress took off to put their order through. She’d lead this conversation.

“He was a friend.” Franky shrugged. 

“A good one?” Erica questioned. 

Franky shrugged again. “Kind of.”

At least Franky’s willingness to answer questions properly hadn’t changed, Erica thought to herself as she scoffed mentally, almost feeling as if she was the governor trying to find out about an incident again, with none of the prisoners willing to speak up. Especially not Franky Doyle. 

“How’s your law study going?” Erica asked instead. 

It caused Franky to look rather surprised. “Suddenly you’re interested in my life now?”

Erica sighed. “I want to know how much you’re into the business.”

“I’m going to be a proper fucking lawyer once I finish my exams in two months.” Franky replied matter-of-factly, a little annoyed at how easily Erica denied her attempt to control the conversation. 

“Do you follow Frank’s case?” Erica asked curiously. 

“Nah.” Franky shrugged. “Decided not to keep busy with that. Shit’s kind of confronting.” If Erica cared, this had to sting a little. Which it did, because it made the blonde feel as though she had come across rather careless so far.

“I’m sorry, Franky.” She sighed. 

“Are you?” Franky didn’t believe her.

They were interrupted by their arriving food, switching to the usual formalities of taking the plates and thanking the waitress and leaving a silence to linger as they both took a few bites from their lunch. Erica was the first to break the silence.

“Do you know who Clint Tobias is?” 

Franky looked up from her plate, putting her cutlery down on the plate and folding her hands in front of her chin for a second before moving her chin on top of her fists in order to speak up. She thought of how she had kept busy with figuring things out resolving Frank’s murder, of how she had actually tried to meet with Clint that very morning. “Heard of him.” 

“He has been accused for the murder.” Erica mumbled, looking around the moderately crowded place as if she were to discuss something top secret. “I’m his lawyer.”

Franky had kind of expected that. “What have you figured out so far?”

Erica softly scoffed at the simplicity of that question. “A lot of confidential information.” She took another bite from her baguette. 

“And you want to add what I know to that confidential information of yours?” Franky’s eyes never left Erica’s features. Erica knew Franky wouldn’t allow it to be that simple, and she wondered if Franky had valuable enough information to negotiate. “I’ll be more than glad to help, Erica, if I get something in return.”

“What do you want?” Erica asked. Perhaps Franky’s offer was reasonable. 

“I want you to explain why you left, why you never contacted me.” Fair enough, “And since I have to start somewhere, I want to help you on this case… And after lunch I’m taking you for a drink.” A few steps too far.

“I thought it was confronting.” Erica replied coolly, dodging the bigger part of Franky’s words. 

“Finding out the truth sounds more appealing.” Wiggling her dark brows, Franky was rather sure the double meaning of her words had to come across. 

Erica scratched the back of her neck, her gaze landing on Franky’s half-empty plate. “And why should I accept an offer when I don’t even know what I get?” 

“I knew Frank. Know where he liked to eat, what he liked to eat, what he always watched on television, where he kept his old comic books, why he never wore red clothes. He was a good friend, and you can trust me.” Franky pulled an almost pleading expression, one Erica had proven not to be immune to for long. Besides, it sounded quite interesting to have a friend of Frank’s helping her on the matter. Could make the thinking process a lot easier. On the other hand it was Franky, which said quite enough, considering their history. 

“Only for business ends.” Erica spoke sternly, eyeing Franky with a glance that matched her tone, although she had already dropped her guard. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want.” Franky answered airily, knowing it could never turn out to be just that, considering their past, but allowing Erica to figure that out herself. She was already rather glad she would get an actual explanation on why the blonde had left Wentworth without a word, and guessed she’d eventually even receive somewhat of an apology for it. 

They both finished their lunch and Erica moved over to the counter to pay for the two of them with Franky in tow. “Drinks are on me.” Franky spoke cheekily, referring to the taking Erica for a drink part of the agreement. 

They left for the bar next to the lunchroom and Erica followed Franky to the brunette’s usual spot on one of the barstools at the bar. Apparently she and the barman were familiars. 

Franky had entered the bar with quite the content swagger, instantly noticing old Sue at the bar and remembering what Patrick had said about the woman the day before. She chuckled at how she was there yet again, like the barman had warned her for. Only this time she wasn’t there to forget about the shitty things in life. This time she was there to share a drink with Erica Pearson. She greeted Patrick and ordered a beer for herself and a glass of red wine for Erica, hoping for it to be a good guess, it being so judging by the surprised look on Erica’s face once the blonde received her wine. 

“Always thought you’d be a red wine kinda gal.” Franky explained herself, grinning.

“You got that right.” Erica had to admit. She rested one elbow on top of the bar as she faced Franky on the barstool next to her. Franky did the same.

“Cheers.” Franky spoke with a single wiggle of her eyebrows, shortly raising her glass before downing a bit of its content. 

“Cheers.” Erica resounded, taking merely a sip of wine. 

After a little silence, Franky spoke up again. “So you actually married that guy.”

Erica’s glance shifted to the brim of her glass as she shifted on her stool a little awkwardly. She would rather not discuss her marriage with Franky, even though they were equals with the same interests now. The brunette was still the charming (ex-)con she had always been and Erica still had a weakness for her which had to be treated with caution. She didn’t want to get too personal with Franky. 

“A simple yes would do.” Franky interfered Erica’s thinking process, detecting the doubt.

The blonde sighed softly. “Yes, I did.” And that was about all she wanted to say about it. 

“Of course you did.” Franky could barely imagine it to be a happy marriage, but maybe that was just her own hopes speaking. Judging by Erica’s behaviour back at Wentworth it simply couldn’t be. Unless the two got over it, but when did that ever happen? “Is he the reason you left?” 

Another sigh passed Erica’s lips and she set her glass down on the bar, her fingers beginning to fiddle with the edge of her coat. “No.” She shook her head. “The pressure was. I couldn’t take being held responsible for Jacs’ death, didn’t want to deal with all the bad publicity.” She had kind of felt like a coward back then. “Can you promise me one thing?”

Franky looked surprised. “Depends.”

“You can ask me anything. About why I left, about the choices I made, as long as it stays at what happened within the walls of Wentworth. My husband and my personal life are off limits here.” A seemingly never ending sort of eye contact followed as neither of them considered speaking up to be the same as winning.

Eventually Franky broke the silence with a sigh. “Business ends, I get it.”

“Will you promise not to bring it up?” Erica asked.

Franky turned her glance away, her eyes shortly falling on the several bottles on the shelves behind the bar. She had a hard time promising that. “I usually don’t make promises…” She looked back at Erica, whose expression said quite enough. “Fine.”

“Good, thank you.” Erica was relieved, even though she doubted Franky’s ability to keep the promise. She had something to fall back on now. 

“So what now?” Franky asked as she set her empty glass back on the bar.

Erica shortly watched the bit of wine that was left in her own glass as she swirled it around. “Now I fill you in on everything I know, and you promise me not to tell anyone.”

Franky once again raised her arms. “Professional confidentiality, I’ve read my law books.”

Erica was glad to have Franky involved after all when she walked back to her car. She and Franky had parted ways after they had gone through everything there was to know about Clint Tobias’ case and Franky had once again showed the real potential Erica had seen in the brunette years before. She was still smart, quick-witted and cocky and Erica had a little bit more faith in the case now that she had the law student on the job as well, and even though she was still wary about the brunette’s actual intentions, for now she didn’t regret her choice. Besides, Franky had made a promise, nothing could happen as long as it was being kept. Erica put her hopes on that.

Franky had made way back home, making notes on everything Erica had told her about Mr Tobias’ case the minute she had logged onto her laptop, quite determined to prove herself useful to the blonde. She’d see how long it would take before Erica would stop wearing her ring again…


	3. We?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey,   
> As you all might have noticed, I'm not very regularly updating!  
> I'm a very insecure writer and I'm never really satisfied about my work.   
> Though all of your support and reviews really keep me going.   
> I also don't know where exactly to go with this story, even though I have   
> some ideas, so please bear with me. 
> 
> You're all very much appreaciated!
> 
> Enjoy reading :)

Erica had picked up a coffee on her way to her office, successfully avoiding David Shutter as she quickly walked past him through the hallway, giving him no opportunity to cut off his conversation and interrupt her on her way. She had a few documents tugged underneath her arm and dropped them on the large desk in the middle of the spacy room in order to have both her hands free for her coffee, her keys landed next to them. She had once again dropped Tara off at school, simply because Mark had a day off and wouldn’t get out of bed before 10AM, and now she finally had a short moment for herself, leaving the documents on her desk for what they were as she perched in her chair and took in the scent of her coffee. However she didn’t have too long to enjoy this moment for herself, her door soon being flung open and a female figure marching in. 

“Hope I’m not disturbing?” The woman asked in a cheeky rather than genuine way, walking over and casually picking up the documents on the desk, beginning to browse through them. 

Erica quickly set her coffee down and leaned forward in her chair to snatch the documents out of the woman’s hands. “Just because you’re helping me now, doesn’t mean you can look into all of my files, Franky.”

Franky held her hands up defensively, her eyes scanning the office. It was quite the contrast to Erica’s office at Wentworth. It even reminded her of the Freak’s; with black and grey and hardly something decorating around. “What, no chair for me?” Erica hinted for the chair on the other side of the desk. “I’m not your fucking client.”

“Do you want to be here or not?” Looking up from her computer, Erica sent over a somewhat stern look. Franky had to be glad she was even giving her this opportunity.

“Here.” Franky said, pulling a roll of paper out of the back pocket of her jeans and dropping it in front of Erica before sitting down on the chair across from the blonde. “Everything I know about Frank that might be useful.” 

Erica took a curious look at it, a confused frown casting a shadow over her eyes. After a while of reading through it, she brought up a matter. “How do you know Frank went to Tobias’ garage?”

“He once told me, because one of the mechanics was being an asshole to him.” Franky shrugged it off, slouching down in the chair, looking rather bored. 

“Are you sure it was Tobias’ place?”

“Pretty sure.” A moment of realisation made Franky sit right up. “You didn’t know?” She sounded rather surprised. “You never asked?”

“I asked, and I checked his costumer register. Frank wasn’t in there.” Erica’s frown grew even deeper. Her mind was failing on her. 

Franky tilted her head off to the side, slightly tutting her lips. “Erica, has it ever occurred to you that you might be defending a guilty man?”

Erica didn’t even give so much as a response to Franky’s words, grasping for her phone and finding Clint Tobias in her contacts. “Where are you?” She asked the minute he had picked up. 

“At work, why?” Tobias replied ignorantly. 

“Was Frank Harvey a costumer of yours?” 

“You asked that before, no he wasn’t.” 

Erica took a breath. “Listen, Clint, lying to your lawyer is a pretty stupid thing to do.”

“I’m not lying.” He seemed genuine.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” He mumbled, beginning to sound a little annoyed. 

Erica thought for a second, giving Franky a rather miserable expression before asking: “Are you the only one with access to your costumer register?”  
“Nope, hold on a second - ” Some vague rustling was all Erica heard for a few seconds. “- all the mechanics have access.”

“Do you keep copies of it?” Erica’s mind was working at top speed, Franky was simply spectating and trying to understand the conversation through the blonde’s end of it. 

“The system automatically makes monthly backups, but to gain access you need a password and I forgot it.”

“You forgot the password of your entire system?” Erica wasn’t willing to buy that. 

“Not the entire system, just that part.” By now Clint was clearly doing more than one thing at a time, which began to work on Erica’s nerves. 

“Strange coincidence.” 

“Hey, I wrote the password down. It should be lying around somewhere. If you need that backup for something, I’ll find it sometime.”

This really annoyed Erica. “Clint, you have less than a week before your first hearing. You don’t exactly have the time to be airy about it.”

A sigh could be heard on the other side. “I’ll find it sometime today.”

Erica had to go with it. She thanked him even though she didn’t want to and rang off, leaning back into her chair and releasing a sigh. 

“He’s a pain in the ass.” Franky concluded by her observations, poking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth. “What did he say?” 

“He keeps backups of his costumer register in some system, but he forgot the password.” Erica sighed. “All I have so far is his prat of a son as a witness. That register was my only other option and if what you say is true, I will have absolutely no solid proof of his innocence. It will be my word against their facts.”

“Alibi?” Franky questioned.

“Unproven.” 

“He has an alibi without witnesses?” Franky didn’t understand how Erica still believed Clint Tobias was innocent.

“Clint went fishing with his son at some lake without anyone else around. His employees can confirm he wasn’t at work because he had a day off, but that’s it.” 

“Don’t people who fish always take pictures of their catch?” 

Erica lifted her head from the chair only to shake it. “They’re fishing hipsters. Taking pictures is apparently too mainstream.” She mocked.

Franky snorted. “What about gas stations? Did they go to the lake by car?” 

“Franky, I’ve considered everything. His alibi is the weakest I’ve seen in years.”

“Sounds like you’ve given up already.” 

“I’m out of ideas, really.” Erica sat back upright, gazing over at Franky with that same miserable look as before.

“Wow, Erica…” Franky’s mouth made a twitch. She pushed her chair back, rising to her feet and moving around to stand behind the blonde. “You need a massage and some really good sex.” 

Dropping her shoulders and closing her eyes, Erica sighed. “Franky…”

The brunette grinned a little. “Say I were the jury, what do you have to convince me so far?” 

“The jury doesn’t usually stand behind me.” Erica mumbled, aimlessly beginning to organize her desk.

“Jesus, you’re a killjoy.” Franky moved around to sit against the side of the desk, crossing her arms. “Bring it on.” 

“I’d begin with Frank’s name missing in Tobias’ register, if that still goes. Then I’d point out that sabotaging a car’s breaks is something anyone could do. I’d call in Stef, Tobias’ son, as a witness, ask him a few detailed questions about the fishing so the alibi is at least somewhat supported. I talked to him earlier and he set up a pretty good emotional story, so I’d use that. And since Frank’s issues with Stef and his father at school won’t be left out, I’d point out parents don’t always get along with their children’s teachers but that doesn’t necessarily have to be a motive to kill.”

Franky’s mouth made a twitch. “That’s something, right?” 

“But it isn’t good enough.” The two crossed glances for a second, the moment of silence allowing Erica’s mind to run freely, and her dream popped up in her thoughts. Franky had appeared in it, very briefly and very innocently, but she had. And now Erica looked into those big eyes and she had a feeling it would happen again. 

Franky pushed herself away from the desk, beginning to pace through the office and pick up few ornaments Erica had placed in it. “If Frank did go to Tobias’ place, his mechanics should know, right?”

“I don’t know.” Erica sighed. “I guess so.” She sat back in her chair again, making it spin from side to side a little. 

With a small statue in her left hand, Franky turned around to face Erica. “Go ask them?” She put the stone thing back in its place and moved back to the desk, putting both hands on its surface and leaning forward. “Stop being such a grouch.” 

Less than an hour later Erica set foot in Clint Tobias’ car repair shop. Without Franky, who couldn’t join her for odd reasons she didn’t really understand. A broad man approached her, wiping his hands off with a dirty rag. 

“How can I help you?” He took a look over Erica’s shoulder, probably to see what new car had been parked at the place and he seemed pretty impressed. 

“Erica Pearson, I’m Clint’s lawyer.” She introduced herself without extending a hand, not very keen to shake hands with the man. 

“Oh,” he seemed a little disappointed. “I’ll go get him for you.” 

“Actually,” Erica interrupted before the man could turn around. “I would like to speak to you and your colleagues.” 

A frown crossed the man’s brow, his shoulders raising a little. “Why?”

“I have reason to believe Frank Harvey was a customer here, but his name doesn’t appear in the costumer register. I would like to know more about that.” 

A short silence fell, one in which Erica believed the man to grow a little uncomfortable, but maybe that was just what she wanted to see. “I think that’s still something you’ll have to talk to Clint about.” His voice had dropped an octave. 

“He told me you have access to the register as well.” She pulled her brows up in question.

“Alright, follow me.” The man gave in eventually as he beckoned her along, throwing the rag aside on the hood of a red Ford Erica considered quite a lovely car. “Do you want coffee?”

“No thank you.” Erica answered, following the man into a small office and perching in a seat at a small wooden table. The big windows in the office allowed her a view over the several cars in the workshop of the garage and she kept herself occupied with staring at them until the man returned with a cup of coffee for himself. 

“So, are you a car fan?” He asked, slouching down across from Erica. 

“I’m a fan of luxury. Pretty cars are a part of that.” She answered, giving no room for the subject to be continued as she soon added: “Are you the only mechanic at work today?”

“No, the others are on their break.” 

Erica nodded while she browsed through the camera roll on her phone, finding Frank’s old Facebook profile picture that she had saved and showing it to the man across from her. “Have you ever seen this man around?” 

He took a while to answer. “Not that I can recall.”

“So you’re not a hundred percent sure?” 

“Almost.” The man took a sip of coffee. 

If all the men were going to give such an answer, she’d get no further with the case. However breaching a personal barrier could help, she thought to herself. “What’s your name?”

“Mike.” He answered simply. 

“Mike, could you get one of your colleagues for me?” She asked, although it didn’t sound like a choice.

The man shrugged, pushing himself up from his chair and taking his coffee along through a door, leaving Erica all by herself for a little while, but instead of an unfamiliar man returning through the door, it was Clint Tobias who sat across from her mere moments later. 

“What are you doing here?” He almost hissed his words. 

“Asking a few questions to your personnel.” She answered nonchalantly. 

“I told you I was going to find you those copies.” 

“This isn’t about the copies, Clint. I just want to talk to them.” 

“You don’t trust me.” He continued to hiss at her, his eyes having something fierce about them.

Erica couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Clint, I’m your lawyer. Whether I trust you or not, it’s my job to help you. So that’s all I’m doing here now. I’m trying to help.”

“Listen,” the short man began, placing his elbow on the table and leaning a little closer, apparently to be intimidating. “next time you decide you want to talk to my guys, ask me first.”

Erica stared at Clint for a second, hardly intimidated and very steadfast. The eye contact seemed to last forever, but in reality it had to be only a mere few seconds before she breached the sudden silence with a clear question. “Did you do it?” She hadn’t asked before, she never asked. She was used to her clients telling the truth without having to ask. But Franky’s words had her thinking. She didn’t trust Clint Tobias anymore. 

The man kept his icy stare into her direction, no flaws visible in his mask. He didn’t answer immediately, but when he did, the answer was resolute and powerful. “No.”

Franky had driven back to her apartment when Erica had decided to see the mechanics at Tobias’ place. She had given a stupid reason as to why she didn’t tag along, and clearly Erica hadn’t known what to believe of it because the blonde had looked suspicious but fortunately Erica hadn’t asked. Franky didn’t want to tell Erica about her little interference with the whole murder case before she had spoken to her as that would prove she had lied to the blonde before. Somehow she felt like that would damage whatever the hell she had going on now. She took a seat in her couch after dropping the groceries she had brought along the way off in the kitchen area of the apartment, and picked up her laptop from where she had left it. As she waited for the small thing to require her password, her thoughts wandered off. Her mind shortly brought her back to Wentworth, which was something that happened a lot, even though it had been a solid five years since her first day out in the open world. Usually the thoughts bothered her, but this time she was only brought back to the moments that hadn’t bothered her at all; the ones with Erica, Davidson at the time. She liked that name better, not only because she didn’t like the fact Erica was now a married woman, but also because it simply sounded much better than the blonde’s new name. Therefore Erica was the only contact in her phone without a surname, slightly childish, but she had deemed it necessary. As her laptop welcomed her with programmed friendliness, she did the usual of checking her mail and opening the ones she hadn’t read yet, but it wasn’t all that much interesting. A look at the small digital clock in the corner of her screen told her it was merely 10AM. She had no idea what she would be doing for the rest of the day. She hoped Erica would find something thrilling and call her. She was rather surprised when her phone started ringing indeed, although it wasn’t Erica. 

“Franky speaking.” She picked up, tugging the phone between her shoulder and ear as she used both her hands to type an email in response to her tutor.  
“Hey, Franky. Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Franky was rather surprised when the person on the other side appeared to be one of her uni classmates. He was the youngest and most cheeky and annoying one, which was the major reason why she actually wanted to answer with a resounding ‘no’.

“Sure, go ahead.” She answered nonetheless, pausing her email the listen to the guy. 

“You went to prison, right?” He didn’t allow Franky the time for a confirmation. “I’m writing my paper about prison, thought you could help out.”

The words reminded her of finishing her own paper. She was actually quite thankful for that, though the question she hated. “Paul, we’re all busy with our paper. I don’t have time to help you out.” Not wanting to be entirely blunt though, she added: “but if you wanna know about prison, go for a visit.”

“You think anyone will have me over?”

Good point, Franky thought. “No… you know what, next time I go see my pals, you join me.” She offered, regretting it the second she finished speaking.

She could almost hear Paul frown. “You’ve been out for what, two years? You still have pals in there?”

“Three years, and keep asking those questions and you can forget about joining me.” She wouldn’t have his nosiness. 

“Alright, alright. Thank you.” He spoke quickly, then rang off all at once. 

“Fucktard.” Franky mumbled when she put her phone aside. “Huge fucktard.” She added when she noticed Paul’s call had made her miss one from Erica. 

“He won’t budge.” Erica sighed when Franky had called her back curiously. She hadn’t been too glad to leave the building she had intended to find answers within, while all she had found was the stench of gasoline and coffee. But she was all too glad to be driving away when she noticed the mechanic called Mike stare at the car as if it was some sort of prey, at least she hoped he was staring at the car. “They’re sketchy people, Franky.” She added once she had put her phone on hands-free to drive back to office. 

“What do you mean?” Franky was rather curious on the other side. 

“I don’t know.. I spoke to one of the mechanics, looked like he had something to hide. Then Clint came ranting at me for being there without his permission.”

“He doesn’t trust you..” Franky mused. “Erica?”

“Sorry, I’m driving.” Erica excused herself quickly when she realized she hadn’t spoken up for a while. “But no, he doesn’t. He even thinks I don’t trust him. I mean, I’m his lawyer, why should that even matter? He pays me to keep him out of prison.”

“Because he’s done it.” Franky replied simply. 

This caused Erica to scoff, turning left into a smaller road at a traffic light, considering the big roads were cramped during noon. “Why are you so certain about that?”  
“Why are you so certain he hasn’t?” Franky almost instantly retorted. 

This made Erica realise she couldn’t actually answer that question. “I don’t know…” She sounded rather defeated. “But it’s ridiculous, Franky, if I don’t even trust my own client, how am I supposed to help him?” 

“You need to find out what really happened.” The brunette concluded.

“Thank you, captain obvious.” Erica replied without much humour, allowing a soft sigh to fall past her lips. She couldn’t get along with Clint Tobias. Not at all. And she’d had it before, but at least her clients had always trusted her so far, they had always been speaking the truth to her and now… she didn’t even know what to believe anymore. In fact it all shouldn’t matter. There were the facts, the arguments, there was the evidence. It was basically all she needed to do her job, yet Clint’s distrust kept her far from it. 

“Hey, I’m trying to help. You’re welcome.” There was a thick layer of sarcasm in Franky’s voice. 

Erica instantly softened her demeanour. “I know, Franky, I’m sorry. Can you come to my office?”

“Anytime.” Franky replied wittily. 

Erica had decided a lot of things by the time Franky walked through her door, watching the tattooed ex-con take her seat before filling her in on everything her musings had resulted in. “It doesn’t matter if Clint is guilty or not, all that matter is that we make the jury believe he is..” She pulled a brow up to request a first response. 

Franky shrugged nonchalantly. “We?” she asked, the word holding quite some meaning to it.

Erica sighed. Her shoulders fell and she sent Franky a look of slight annoyance. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” Franky fired back instantly.

“Giving those subtle, little provoking answers.” The way she sat in her chair, with one arm resting in her lap, the other on her desk to support her slightly leant forward body, Franky on the other side, nonchalantly seated in a chair with subtle mischief in her expression, but innocence in her tone of voice. It took Erica back to Wentworth, back to every moment they had spent together, every moment she had tried to resist Franky’s undeniable charm, that one moment in which she hadn’t been able to do so…

“You just see that shit in every word I say, Erica.” Franky wiggled her brows, resting her elbows upon the surface of the desk, leaning forward and exposing the tattoo just above her breast to Erica. The blonde’s eyes were drawn to it, and it brought back more memories. She spotted the scar Jacs Holt had marked Franky with and frowned a thoughtful frown. “Maybe you even wanna see it.”

They exchanged glances, Erica didn’t know for how long. Neither of them wanted to give in on the sudden staring contest, however Erica spoke up. “We agreed on not going down that road.” 

“You agreed on explaining me why the fuck you left and never contacted me.” 

Another silence followed, in which Erica concluded things between them would never be fully settled if they didn’t talk it out. And they could better talk it out sooner rather than later. “Alright,” She started with, sitting upright in her chair and moving all of the files on her desk aside in a symbolic way. “What do you want to know?” 

Franky hadn’t expected this. The slight surprise could be read from her features. She couldn’t sit still any longer, pushing herself out of the chair and beginning to make the same round through Erica’s office as she had made that morning. “I thought you cared…” her words were more blunt than she felt about it. 

Closing her eyes, Erica let a sigh fall past her lips. “I did.” 

“That’s bullshit, you fucking left.” 

“Because I had no other choice.” Erica explained plainly. 

Franky snorted. “You didn’t visit…”

“Franky, I had lost my job. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t help you anymore, why would I visit you?” Erica knew the answer to that, and she knew she wasn’t going to be the one giving it, assuming Franky would anyway. 

Franky turned around, shooting Erica a glare that might as well have killed her. “You fucking know why.” She hissed.

The worst part about the whole situation was that Erica knew Franky was entitled to her anger. She had fled from the brunette and all the confusion, assuming she would never have to deal with Franky Doyle again. It was selfish, but she still didn’t regret it. “You had to get over it..” She tried to keep a calm and soft tone, hoping Franky would adjust.

“I spent a fucking month wondering when you’d come back, and when I finally asked miss Miles about it and heard you weren’t going to, I was so fucking pissed at you.” Franky’s demeanour told Erica she still was. “You could’ve told me you were going to play happy family.”

“I didn’t owe you.” Erica was quite surprised by her own calmness. She was far less affected by Franky’s words than she would have been back at Wentworth. Even though she couldn’t deny Franky was still one of her weaknesses, she had created an emotional barrier over the years. She felt sorry for the brunette, but she didn’t feel responsible for it.

“You did after you kissed me.” 

There was the matter Erica had expected to be brought up way earlier in their interaction. Her gaze fell to her hands, where her attention was caught by the shiny diamond around her finger. She had nothing to say to that. 

Franky considered it cowardly. The way Erica sat there, almost fully emotionally secluded, like there had been an invisible wall put up between them. Erica was a coward, she’d always run away. Franky felt like they were in secured visitation, with her on the inside and Erica on the outside. She was free, but her world was still separated from Erica’s. she realised that was perhaps never going to change, and it made quite an impact on her.

“I made a mistake looking for you.” She concluded bluntly.

It drew Erica’s attention, broke that wall for a split second, but neither of them acted on it. When all Franky received was a plain stare, she knew she didn’t have any more business in Erica Pearson’s office and left. 

When Erica had arrived home at the end of the day, she tiredly perched in the big armchair next to the fireplace, having greeted the others living in her house with a simple “I’m home!” When Tara came rushing out of the kitchen to crawl onto her lap, she managed to crack a smile, listening to how the girl’s day at school had been and accepting the long hug she received. While absentmindedly caressing her daughter’s back, her mind trailed off. She wondered if Franky was going to stay away from her office forever, then wondered why she even cared. Why did she still care for the witty (ex-)con? She couldn’t find the answer within the confines of her mind, and she was rather glad when her husband freed her by calling the two girls for dinner. 

After dinner Erica couldn’t wait to get Tara to bed, craving for a moment alone with Mark. She crawled close to him onto their sofa, trying with all her might to feel some more than usual. When they went to bed, she initiated sex, hoping it would relight a spark within her. And when she watched Mark’s peaceful, motionless, sleeping body she concluded it wasn’t going to happen. There wasn’t going to be a spark, no matter how hard she tried. She loved this man because it was a habit, because no one had tried to convince her otherwise after Franky, because she didn’t know better and because he had given her her most precious possession: Tara. She loved the girl, and he did too, and it kept them together. If Tara hadn’t been there, she was certain Mark wouldn’t have been either. Concluding this, Erica suddenly wondered if leaving Wentworth like she had, had indeed been the right choice.


	4. Twists and turns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments on last chapter!
> 
> Enjoy reading. :)

Tuesday morning, a day before Clint’s first hearing and Erica woke up with a shitty mood and nothing to go with. She didn’t feel like getting up, she didn’t feel like leaving bed ever again, but at the same time she wanted to run as far away from the bed as she could. Mark’s arm was loosely draped around her and it made her feel trapped. Was she going to be trapped in this future she had thought was right for her forever? The thought of this made her breathe a little heavier. She had dreamt again, the same dream as the night before. Only this time the silhouette in teal had gained a face: Franky. But the brunette had faded, then Erica was all alone. That’s how it ended. 

Erica carefully pushed the covers from her body, trying to snake herself out of Mark’s hold without waking him, sneaking out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. She hadn’t checked the time yet. Her phone told her it was 6AM, not a time she had hoped for, but she took a shower nonetheless. The hot jets of water on her skin worked somewhat relaxing. There was no other sound than water hitting the floor. Mark didn’t exist, Franky didn’t exist, Clint Tobias didn’t exist. This was a moment to herself. It took half an hour until her thoughts couldn’t be blocked any longer. She moved out of the shower, picking up a towel on the way. 

“You’re up early.” 

The words startled Erica. Mark’s sleepy face had appeared beside her. He was ruffling a hand through his messy hair and his half-lidded eyes looked surprised. Erica just shrugged as a response, drying her face with the towel to hide her startled expression. Mark’s sudden appearance had brought her right back down to earth. 

“What’s wrong?” He insisted on getting an answer. Hadn’t he learned this was exactly the question that usually lead to arguments?   
“Nothing.” Erica gave her usual answer. She tried to avoid his gaze. 

Mark sighed. “Erica, I think it’s about time we stop lying to each other.” 

“Please, Mark…” Erica pleaded. She quickly dried off the rest of her body, then wrapped the towel around her chest. 

“Are we happy?” He confronted her.

Erica slightly pushed him out of the way, attempting to begin her morning routine. “Mark…” She mumbled out, in the same way she would’ve mumbled Franky’s name back at Wentworth. 

“You always avoid that question like the plague.” When Erica simply continued her way through the hallway, Mark didn’t leave it with words alone, grabbing her by the arm. 

Erica turned back around when Mark held her from escaping, her gaze swiftly setting on Mark’s hand, surprised as the grasp was a little painful. Clearly, Mark was slightly shocked by his own quick and slightly harsh action. He retracted his hand almost immediately and allowed Erica to walk away as a way to compensate. She was rather thankful.

They spent the rest of the morning ignoring each other. Even in Tara’s presence, not many words were exchanged. The girl was clearly aware of this, and Erica began to fear the worst on how things would end. She had tried so hard keeping her daughter out of these situations, but she had fooled herself believing she would be able to keep it up forever. 

Mark brought Tara to school and Erica was left alone. She made herself a cup of tea after which she curled up on the couch. She spent a while staring ahead of her at nothing in particular, gazing into the void as she listened to the silence in the apartment. The only thing she could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall in the kitchen. It was a terribly annoying sound, she concluded. After a while she was even ready to take the thing down from the wall and remove the batteries, turning into being willing to get it and smash it against the wall. She got more irritated with every moment she spent in silence, yet it seemed some sort of trance she couldn’t escape from, one she was taken out of all at once by the sound of her phone. She reached forward to pick it up from the small side table, putting her empty teacup back down on it in exchange. 

“Erica Pearson speaking.” She mumbled absentmindedly. An answer immediately followed.

“Hello, miss Pearson, my name is Christiano Diaz, head of the Melbourne Police Department. I’m calling to inform you about Clint Tobias’ arrest. We are about to interrogate him. He’s asking for you.”

Erica frowned in surprise. “Clint’s arrest?”

“We have as good as solid proof that connects mister Tobias to Frank Harvey’s murder.”

“As good as solid proof?” Erica criticised. 

It remained silent on the other side for a second. “Your client needs you here.” 

Erica rolled her eyes. She was keen for a discussion, something to lose her frustration. The cop was blocking it. After a moment she agreed to meet him and Clint at the station as soon as she could make it over. She didn’t bother to inform Mark with a little note.   
Franky had decided to visit Boomer in prison after attending school in the morning. As promised, she had brought Paul along with her. He was a pain right from the start, acting like a kid in a candy shop.   
“Wait until you see the inside for more than a fucking year.” Franky had snorted, when Paul’s enthusiasm reached the top of her nerves.

“Who the fuck is this?” Boomer was suspicious right from the start. 

“A classmate.” Franky shrugged it off, pretending she was talking about someone who wasn’t even there. Boomer caught onto that. She even ignored the pathetic hand Paul reached out, much to Franky’s amusement.

“You really should be glad you’re out, Franky.” 

“Is Ferguson up to anything?” Franky leant forward a little. 

“She’s fuckin’ crazy. No one dares to stand up against her, ‘cause then you’re dead.” Boomer gazed around as if she was about to receive a hit.

“Relax, Booms. She can’t just go around killing people.” Franky tried to reassure her friend. 

“It’s what she did to Bea.” Boomer shrugged. 

It silenced Franky for a moment. Mainly because she still wasn’t over the death of her good friend and competition. She refused to let her expression crack with Paul around, however. 

“What about Novak?” Franky asked.

Boomer shook her head. “Never seen someone that broken before… why don’t you just come back, Franky?” 

“Great idea, Booms.” Franky snorted. “Let me just commit a murder real quick.” She sighed. “I might as well. Life outside is a bitch.”

“At least it’s life..” 

Franky’s humourless laugh filled the air. “Mind if he asks you some questions?” She asked, nodding aside at Paul as she got up to move over to get herself a bottle of soda. As she watched Boomer answer Paul’s questions from a distance and felt a little sorry her friend had to deal with the prick, she thought about the whole situation with Ferguson. It was fucked up and wrong and she hated that nothing could be done about it. Someone had to stand up against the Freak. She’d gladly do it herself, but it wasn’t worth giving up her freedom for. She had worked hard to reach the outside world, and even now that world sucked big time, she’d still not exchange it for the simpler prison environment. No one would. She just still felt responsible for Boomer and the other girls, especially now Bea was gone too. Franky leant against the vending machine. Her gaze shifted from Boomer through the rest of the room and it fell onto a man that looked familiar to her. He was sitting across from a girl she figured had to be new, and she wondered what she knew this guy from. She couldn’t have seen him around before. Then all at once she knew. Bald, a chubby face. She recognised. 

Strolling back over to where she had left Paul with Boomer, she put both hands on the table, her back facing the officers keeping watch. 

“You done?” She urged at Paul.  
The younger guy looked a little surprised as he was still busy taking notes.

“I gotta talk to Boomer. In private.” Franky pulled her brows up, nodding into the direction of the toilets. Paul got the hint and stood up. When he was gone out of sight, Franky sat down in his seat, leaning forward so she could whisper. “Who’s that?” She hinted to the girl the familiar man was visiting.

Boomer shrugged. She didn’t seem to be getting the sudden secrecy. “Dunno.” Her volume didn’t match Franky’s.

“Do you recognise the guy?”

Boomer took a long, obvious stare in his direction. Franky nudged her arm before the man would notice.

“Do you?” 

“Wait… Wasn’t he that-”

“That’s him.” Franky interrupted her friend as Boomer’s eyes showed she knew. Franky’s eyes shot up to the clock. She had five more minutes. “Do you mind if we leave a little early?” 

“Well, no..” Boomer looked confused. 

“Promise we’ll have a better talk next time, Booms.” Franky shot the other woman a charming smile. “And call me if Ferguson pulls off any shit.” Boomer nodded.

Paul returned from the toilets and Franky was already standing up, handing him his coat without saying a word. She hugged Boomer tightly and told her to take care, then left with Paul in tow. 

“Did you get what you wanted to get?” She wasn’t that interested. 

“Not everything since you interrupted me… why are we leaving already anyway?” Paul looked slightly offended. 

“I always leave early.” She lied.

Paul was suspicious, but he didn’t argue. 

“Would you mind taking public transport?” 

“You agreed on dropping me off at home…” Paul turned around to block Franky’s way as they walked outside and onto the parking terrain. 

Franky raised a brow, slightly surprised by the protest. “I have somewhere else to be.” She explained coldly. 

Paul adjusted his glasses, then crossed his arms. “You’re supposed to keep promises.”

“Well, I did.” Franky moved past him. “I took you here, didn’t I?” 

“Fine, I’ll take PT.” Paul mumbled, then turned around and walked off into the direction of the bus stop. 

Franky looked after him for a little while. And even though he was an annoying little shit, she felt a tiny bit sorry. “Paul?” 

He turned around, raising his brows. 

“I’m sorry.”

Her apology appeared to be in vain. Paul shrugged and moved on, and suddenly Franky lost even that spark of sympathy she had gained for him. Her conscious was clear after the apology. When the boy disappeared out of sight, Franky moved to lean against a wall near the visitor’s exit of the prison. She waited, then watched as a man with a little girl at his hand left the building. For her it was a sign to keep her eyes open now; visitors hour was over. She watched as people gradually left the massive building, but there was no sign of the man she had seen in visitation. It confused her. She waited a little longer, then when no one had come through the exit for fifteen minutes, she gave up. The man had slipped away, she concluded, then she headed back to her car to drive back home. Maybe he would be there next time, and if not she would warn Boomer, tell her friend to keep an eye out.

Erica dropped her purse on a chair in the interrogation room of the police station. She had introduced herself to the head of the department, finding him a rather intimidating man right away. When she saw Clint, she gave him an irritated glance, excusing herself for a moment alone with her client before firing off her annoyance. 

“What did you do?” Her gaze was piercing.

“They found a reason to check my customer register…” Clint huffed like a kid.

Erica lifted both her brows in surprise. “So? You told me Frank wasn’t in there.”

“Well, I lied.” Clint admitted with reluctance. 

Erica sighed. “And you’re telling me this now.”

Clint shrugged and looked away from her. He was clearly chewing on his cheek, looking tense, looking like a guilty man. Erica wasn’t stupid. She saw what Franky had been trying to tell her, only she wanted to hear it.

“Listen. If you didn’t do it, you have nothing to fear here. Why did they arrest you anyway? The fact that Frank Harvey was indeed a customer isn’t directly proving that you killed him.” 

“I told them.” Clint mumbled.

“You told them what?” Erica momentarily pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger, hoping for the love of God Clint hadn’t told the police what she thought he had told them. 

“That Santa doesn’t exist… Jesus, miss Pearson. That I killed the fucker of course.” Clint started pacing around, cracking his knuckles, then lightly tapping his fist against the palm of his other hand. “But I didn’t mean it. They were pushing me. I told them it wasn’t me a thousand times, so I got annoyed and I meant it sarcastically.”   
“You told the police ‘sarcastically’ that you killed someone?” Erica looked quite taken aback. “Great move, Clint.” 

“I swear to God I didn’t do it!” His eyes looked bewildered. His thoughts were clearly taking him in a downward spiral.

“Then why be so nervous?” Clint looked up at Erica. He had a miserable expression. After mere seconds of staring into Clint’s dark eyes, she knew. “Because you know who did.” She concluded.  
Clint instantly looked relieved as his tense shoulders relaxed, which confirmed Erica’s assumption. She felt like they had made progress for a moment, but seconds later she realised it only provided a much more complicated situation.

“I can’t tell them.” Clint sighed.

“Why not?” Erica urged. “You’d rather go to prison? You’d rather leave your son alone? Leave your garage, everything you love? Who would you do that for?”

Having taken a deep breath, Clint’s expression returned to the cool and sullen one Erica was used to. “I’ll go to trial. I’m innocent, right? They can’t make an innocent man go to prison.” 

“Eh, with what they have now, I think they can.” 

“But you’re here to avoid that.” Clint insisted. Suddenly Erica hoped he’d return to his nervous form.

She sighed. “I am, but you’ve been lying to me…”

“I told you I was innocent. That’s it. I haven’t been lying. I’ve been keeping things from you, but you never asked if I knew who did kill that teacher.” 

He had her there. For a second, because Erica quickly regrouped. “I’m not here to play these games, Clint. I can’t do my job if you’re keeping things from me that might be essential. I distrusted you, and maybe that was based on delusions, but there’s no reason for you to distrust me.”

“I’ll go to trial.” Clint was resolute. 

Erica let another sigh fall past her lips. “Alright, if that’s what you want.” She turned around to head for the door through which Christiano Diaz had disappeared. Minutes later she watched as Clint refused to answer the officer’s questions. She shook her head but didn’t say anything. Not because she wasn’t allowed to, but because she knew it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Clint was as stubborn as they came. When eventually she left the station, she spent a few minutes in her car. Normally she would discuss the possibilities with her client, but no progress would be made with that this time. The only good thing about the arrest was that she wouldn’t have to email the judge her plea by the end of the evening, which was the case at first. She had no idea what to do. Going home to Mark was at the bottom of her list, going to her office came after that. Even though it was Wednesday, she decided at least one of her contacts had to have time for her. She browsed through her phone. Amelia, Ben, Claire, Chris, Franky… her eyes remained glued to that name. She mentally debated on deleting as well as calling it. When she couldn’t make a choice, she tossed her phone aside on the passenger’s seat. Still she had nowhere to go. Waiting a few more moments, she picked up her phone again.

“What do you want?” Franky asked when she had picked up her phone. She put her laptop aside on her small table and sat upright on her couch.   
“I don’t know.” Erica answered. She really didn’t. 

Franky had to contain some anger. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Paradise…” Erica sighed. 

“Erica,” Franky started, her stare focussing on her toes, which she randomly wiggled for a second. “Unless you have a good reason to call me, you better hang up. I’m kind of fucking busy.” When she had counted to ten, she sighed. “Alright. Goodbye, Erica.”

“Wait, Franky…” Erica listened, there was no response. Her shoulders hung and she was about to toss her phone aside again. 

“What?” Franky gave in eventually. Just in time. 

Erica closed her eyes in an attempt to collect herself. She took a deep breath, then the words left her lips. “Is there any way I can make things up to you?”

Erica cared enough to ask, was Franky’s first musing. Then she reminded herself of the fact she was still angry. The blonde lawyer could promise the world to her and she’d still be angry. She had never forgiven her father of leaving her, why would it be any different this time. Erica had abandoned her without a word, just like he had, just like everyone ever would. She had a hard time trusting people anymore.

“I mean, I could think of a way, but would it make any difference?”

“You just want to clear your conscious.” Franky snapped. 

“I screwed Vera, who thought I was her best friend, so I could be governor at Wentworth. I’ve manipulated my way up more often than I’ve done it fairly. If I wanted to clear my conscious I’d have a whole list to clear off, and it wouldn’t start with you.” Erica retorted. 

Franky couldn’t suppress a grin after Erica confessing about Vera. “I knew you were the one kicking Vera off her throne.”

Erica gazed down shyly even though Franky wasn’t there with her. “Ambition doesn’t go well with friendship.” She excused herself. 

“You’re such a bitch.” Franky’s grin was clearly audible in her voice.

“Thank you, Franky.” Erica’s sarcasm was too. They both remained silent for what seemed an age, both overthinking their next words to say, both waiting for the other to say something. Erica had turned her keys to get her Audi running, while Franky had taken her laptop back onto her lap. Eventually she was the one to speak up.

“Am I right when I say: see you tomorrow at the office?” She asked carefully. 

Erica felt relieved with this question. “Depends if you show up.”

“I’ll think about it.” Franky mocked. 

When they hung up, the ex-inmate stared at the screen of her phone for a while. She couldn’t wipe the grin off of her face, although she knew she still didn’t have a reason to not be angry. It was satisfying to know Erica had called her, that she was running through the older woman’s mind and that the blonde was willing to take the time and make things right. When she tried to think of a way Erica could do the last, she decided it was going to be quite difficult for the blonde. She didn’t just want flowers, tickets for a concert, or a nice postcard. What she did want, she didn’t know, but that was for Erica to figure out anyway.


	5. Good terms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very late update, but an update nonetheless.
> 
> Enjoy reading and I'd love to get some more opinions!

It was a week later and not a single moment had Erica spent feeling happy and satisfied around her home. Tara used to be the light at the end of her tunnel, but even that light didn’t seem strong enough now. She had felt tense and easily annoyed and it got the better of her; one argument after another emitted from the smallest of situations to a point both her and Mark didn’t pay attention to the presence of Tara anymore. They had been entirely oblivious to the little spectator until Tara had burst out crying during their very last argument. The little girl had wrapped her arms around her mother’s leg, pleading for her parents to stop shouting at each other and Erica knew she had failed. She had failed as a parent, as a wife, as a woman who had sworn to keep her kid safe from harm. Now she was driving, Tara on the passenger’s seat of her car, and the silence and occasional sniffles of her daughter were horrible. 

“Where are we going?” Tara’s voice brought Erica back from her thoughts. She shared friends with Mark, so it had been quite the search for a place to stay.

“A friend’s.” She explained absentmindedly. 

“Do I know them?” The girl hugged her teddy bear close to her. 

“No.” Erica replied. The rest of the drive they spent in silence. Erica hated it; Tara was a very lively girl, always full of questions. That she was silent now only meant she was beyond upset.

It didn’t take very long until Erica found the address she had been given. A friend, she repeated in her mind. A friend I didn’t even know the address of, she added with a scoff. She parked her car somewhere she wasn’t sure she was allowed to park, but it was closest to their destination and what would one parking fine do to her now? She had other things to worry about. She took Tara’s little hand and looked around for a second. 

“That doesn’t look like a house.” Tara mumbled. 

Erica grimaced. “It’s a flat. It’s like our apartment, but smaller.” Sometimes she blamed herself for raising her child to the standards of wealth too much. This was one of those times, but then again she had other things on her mind to bother with.

She allowed Tara to knock on the door after they had climbed the stairs together; the elevator was out of order. A young woman opened the door. 

Franky had to admit to herself she had been glad to have Erica call her in need of a place to stay. First of all it meant things weren’t going so well with Mark (which she knew she shouldn’t be glad about, but still was), second of all because the one week of working together had gone better than she had expected and even though she was way from ready to forgive Erica yet, she was glad to have the blonde back in her life. Therefore a grin spread wide across her charming features when Erica’s face appeared at her doorstep. It didn’t stay there for long, whatsoever. 

“Who’s this?” She tried to ask as neutrally as she could, while her mind was working on a slight disappointment; Erica wasn’t there alone. 

“Franky, this is Tara.” Erica paused, lifting the little girl up on one arm. “She’s my daughter.” 

The last three words hit Franky like a bomb. The sweet looking little girl waved enthusiastically, but Franky couldn’t share in the enthusiasm. She realised she had hoped Erica and her husband were over now, and maybe they were, but the kid would always bind them. She didn’t like that idea. “Your daughter?” 

Erica pulled an urging expression. Franky got the hint. She moved aside to let the two in and rummaged through her things to find something that could distract the little girl while she would have the conversation she had intended to start with Erica. She found some empty notebook and a few differently coloured pencils and told Tara to go draw something. 

“Your daughter?” She repeated as both she and Erica found a spot on the couch, both cupping a mug of tea. “You could’ve told me on the phone.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t have us over if I told you.”

“You’re probably right.” Franky didn’t even bother to bring it kindly. “So why didn’t you leave her with him?” When she spotted the defeated look on Erica’s face, she sighed. 

“I’m her mother.” Erica mumbled. She could finally reflect on the hectic day and tears soon found her eyes. “Leaving her there didn’t feel right. Mark would never hurt her, but a girl needs her mother…” 

“Yeah…” Franky directed her gaze at the little girl. Tara had her mother’s eyes, but her hair was a few shades darker. Still blonde though. When the girl looked up at Franky, it was almost as if she saw herself in her eyes; she found the same hurt and despair covered by a never fading touch of hope. She was the girl’s hope, offering her and her mom help, maybe being the hero by soothing away Erica’s tears. She remembered how she had hoped and hoped, mainly for her dad to return, later for someone to save her from her mother. She could be that someone for Tara now.

Erica wiped a tear away with the back of her hand, sniffling lightly as she gazed into her half-empty cup of tea. “I’m sorry for putting this burden on you…” She mumbled.

Franky sighed. She pushed herself out of the couch and moved to get a box of tissues from the kitchen, returning a few moments later and offering Erica one. “So what now?” 

Erica shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Be honest with yourself, Erica.” 

The blonde woman sighed. “I’m not going back to him.” Her gaze was drawn to the ring around her finger. “There’s so much frustration. We constantly annoy each other. I can’t do it.” She concluded, shaking her head. 

“Do what?” Franky tried to clarify.

“Live with him. Be married to him.”

Franky thought she would be happy to hear. These were the words she had wanted to hear for years, the words she had fantasized about; she had loved it when Erica came to Wentworth without wearing her engagement ring, and she had loved it even more to see the blonde wanting to forget about her fiancé for a moment in life by reluctantly accepting her flirtatious ways. She had loved all of it, but she hated herself for ever wishing these things. Erica’s hurt wasn’t a price she wanted to pay.

“I just don’t want to fail her.” Erica’s voice had gone very little, her gaze directing to Tara, who was far too busy colouring to notice her mother crying. 

Franky didn’t really know what to say. She was very inexperienced when it came to marriage, gladly so, she concluded. All she did was keep offering tissues and wiping some blonde hair out of Erica’s face while waiting for any more words to come. 

Erica’s breath was shaky. “You know my parents divorced when I was twelve.” 

This was the first time Erica had told something about herself and Franky appreciated it. Whether Erica just needed someone to vent to or the blonde actually trusted her enough to finally open up, she was glad.

“They fought every night. I always put my pillow over my head so I didn’t have to hear it. I hated them, because I wanted them to figure everything out and stay together.” Erica stared ahead of her, lost in her past. “I was so done with it at some point that I started shouting too at the top of the stairs.” She mentally spectated herself, standing atop the staircase of a spacious house: ‘I hate you! Both of you! And I hope I’ll never become like you!’. “We’re at good terms now, but I promised myself I would never become like them.” A new rush of tears washed over her. “Now I didn’t keep it.” 

Franky really was at a loss for words. Somehow she had expected Erica’s childhood to be the one she had always wished for; with wonderful birthday presents, many friends, a large bedroom, proud parents at her graduation… She had assumed it was the kind of childhood Erica had had. To her, it had been a fact. She found the opposite hard to believe. 

“I guess there’s nothing to do about it now…” Erica added sadly after a while. She hadn’t meant to open up like this, but now that the whole situation had kind of wrapped up, she had needed to spill her heart out or else she was certain it would’ve exploded.

“We all make wrong choices.” Franky mumbled softly, moving to bring the tissues back to the kitchen when Erica didn’t need them anymore, then returning to the couch. “Kids sense when you’re unhappy. They might seem ignorant, but they bloody know. So you did good leaving him. You both weren’t happy and there’s no way your kid didn’t know. It would only be cruel to confront her with her unhappy parents every other day.”

Erica nodded. 

“Did you bring anything?” Franky tried to direct the conversation elsewhere and distract Erica a little. 

“Our bags are in the trunk of my car.” Erica explained.

A few hours later they were all seated at Franky’s small kitchen table playing a board game. Erica loved to see a little smile on Tara’s face again and she was very grateful Franky came up with ways to provide them both a distraction. They spent the time playing, laughing and eating the takeaway Franky had ordered, and when the clock hit half past eight, Tara fell asleep on the couch, her head on her mother’s lap.

“Thank you, Franky.” Erica whispered as she didn’t want to disturb Tara’s slumber, her fingers softly running through the girl’s hair. 

“I’m doing what I can.” Franky shrugged, cleaning up some dishes.

Erica watched the brunette woman for a while. Franky was much unlike the prisoner Erica remembered her as; the brunette was mature and calm instead of short tempered. She didn’t mind the change. “You didn’t have to.”

“Your kid needs a roof above her head.”

Erica remained silent.

“At first I was going to slam the door. You really should’ve told me you had a kid.”

“I didn’t want to ruin the good terms we’re on.” Erica explained softly. She watched as Franky took a seat opposite her. 

“I’m glad we’re working together.” Franky nodded.

The corners of Erica’s lips curled up into a smile; Franky meant it, without any undertone. It was genuine. “I’m glad to see you’re doing so well. I’m proud of you.” 

Franky returned the smile. They spent a moment in peaceful silence. Both content, both at ease. Erica couldn’t recall ever feeling at ease in Franky’s presence before. She considered it a welcome change. Meanwhile Franky was relieved she could spend a moment talking to Erica without having to add any witty comments or daring looks. During the rest of the evening, Erica opened up about her life. She told Franky about her childhood, where she had lived, where she had gone to school, what her favourite holiday destination was and what kind of music she liked to listen to. At midnight they both called it a day, Franky retreating to her bedroom and Erica curling up on the couch next to her daughter. 

The next morning Erica was awakened by a call. It was Clint Tobias. “What’s the matter?” She mumbled as she checked the time; 5 AM. 

“Stef’s gone.” 

The simple response had Erica wide awake. She carefully pushed herself into a seated position upon the couch and waited for a further explanation. The court hearing from the week before hadn’t brought them closer to winning or losing the case and even though she had to be in the middle of it, the whole situation with Mark had brought the murder case on a side track in her mind. She was hoping her lack of ideas wouldn’t cause trouble in this phone call. 

“He’s not in his room, his phone is still here. I called some of his friends, but they don’t know anything.” Clint was obviously panicking. 

“When did you find out?” Erica tried to remain calm. 

“Just now… what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Clint, take a breath.” Erica stood up, moving to the kitchen and leaning against the table. “Do you have any idea why he might be gone? Where he could be?”

“No fucking clue.” Clint answered. 

“Do you want me to come over?” 

He hesitated. “Meet me at the garage.” He gave in eventually. 

“I’ll be there in half an hour.” Erica promised, but just as she hung up, she realised she had Tara to bring to school. Barely daring to, she knocked on Franky’s door, hearing a grumble but nothing further. She decided it was a sign for her to come in. 

“It’s fucking 5AM, Erica.” Franky mumbled when she entered. 

“I know,” Erica was in a hurry. “I know and I barely dare to ask, but can you bring Tara to school?”

Franky looked confused and annoyed. “At 5AM?”

“No, not now! At 8.”

“Why?”

Erica sighed, being a little too hasty to explain, but considering Franky was helping her on the case; the brunette had the right to know. “Clint’s son is missing.”

Franky’s brow furrowed in confusion. It was far too early to be thinking and she didn’t like to be roughly awakened from her sleep, another dislike she had picked up on in prison. “Missing?”

“Yes, so I’m headed there, but I might not be back before 8.” Erica considered the explanation clear enough. 

“Just write down the address and I’ll take her to school.” Franky mumbled eventually. “But only if you tell me exactly what happens at Clint’s.”

“Every last detail.” Erica promised, being forever grateful Franky was willing to do this for her. “Thank you, Franky, you’re great.”

“I know.” Franky mumbled before burying her face in her pillow.

As promised, Erica found herself sipping a coffee in Clint’s garage half an hour later. The small man sat across from her, his fingers tapping impatiently against the surface of the table. Erica heard him out, trying to figure out where his son could be, but all she got was nervous and panicked answers. She couldn’t blame him however and therefore for once she felt only sympathy for the man. Clint had brought Stef’s iPhone and Erica was browsing through the boy’s contacts and reading some texts. She wasn’t a detective, however, and eventually there was only one conclusion for her:

“We have to wait and see if he shows up at school.”

Clint didn’t like this offer. One look at the clock told him he had to wait another three hours for that. He wouldn’t last three hours. “We should go look for him.”

Erica sighed. “He could be anywhere. And the police won’t look for him, because he hasn’t been gone for longer than a day yet.”

“Fuck the cops. They’re against me anyway.” Clint huffed. 

“It might be better if we focus on court until it’s time?” Erica offered a distraction.

“I don’t want to focus on court! My fucking son is missing!” Clint pushed himself to his feet. He started to pace around the room. 

“I know. And I wish we could do anything, but I’m afraid all we can do is wait.” Erica remained calm, sipping the noticeably cheap coffee out of politeness. 

“I called you because you’re supposed to help me!”

“I’m your lawyer, not some private detective.” Erica sighed. “Unless this has anything to do with Frank Harvey, I can’t do much more than you can.” Clint seemed to hesitate, which made Erica suspicious. “You’re not telling me something.” She concluded. 

“He did it and now he’s afraid. That’s why he’s gone.” Clint spit out.

“What?” Erica urged.

“Stef did it.”

“What?” Erica repeated, confused.

“My son killed his teacher.” Clint said.


	6. A rollercoaster ride

Against her original idea, Erica manoeuvred her Audi around the streets of Melbourne. She had thrown her half-empty cup of garage coffee in the bin after agreeing to look around for Stef and treated Clint and herself to a ‘real coffee’. When she checked the time it was already half past eight and she realised Tara had to be at school by now. The concerned mother she was, she had to check with Franky. 

“Yeah?” Franky picked up the phone after seeing Erica’s name on the display. She put the phone between her shoulder and her ear while she used both hands to hold a spoon and a container of yogurt. She had slept until it was almost eight and brought Tara to school in her pyjama’s. 

“Franky, is Tara at school?”

Franky switched ears. “She is. Took me quite some effort. Your kid doesn’t like waking up in a strange place without her mother.”

Erica wasn’t sure if she should take it as criticism. She decided to ignore it. “Where are you?” 

“At home, why?”

“We’re looking for Stef.”

Franky was curious. “Who’s we?”

“Clint and I.” Erica responded.

“Hey, Franky.” Clint stepped in on the conversation.

Erica ignored him. “Do you have things to do for school?”

Franky shrugged, causing her phone to fall. In a reflex, she reached her hand out to catch it, but the result was her container of yogurt falling instead. The floor was a mess. “Fuck.”

“Excuse me?” Erica spoke like the stern parent hearing their kid swear. Clint wasn’t the most decent and appropriate man himself, but after all, he was their client. They ought to be professional. 

“Wait a minute.” Franky mumbled, apparently not caring much for Erica’s tone. 

Erica and Clint spent a long moment in silence, waiting for Franky to get back to them while keeping a close look at their surroundings. They had arrived at a small shopping mall, a place Stef always hung around at with friends according to Clint. The man had told Erica his son was probably wearing a blue sweater, ripped jeans and a pair of white Nikes. They had seen plenty of white Nikes and ripped jeans, and even some blue sweaters, but not on the same person.

“I’m back.” Clint and Erica both refocused on the phone. “I don’t have anything to do for school. Except maybe work on my final paper and exams, but that depends on why you’re asking.”

Erica rolled her eyes. “We could use more glances on the roads.”

“You want me to join your searching squad?” 

“Yes, we do.” Clint urged.

They agreed on an area for Franky to circle, spending a total of three hours on the road until it was almost lunchtime. They had called the school Stef went to and the principle told them the boy wasn’t in class. Erica was about to give up and a few streets ahead Franky felt the same. Only Clint was willing to continue their search. After a short bicker in Erica’s Audi and a quick call with Franky, they decided to lunch somewhere, stopping at a nearby lunchroom.

Franky and Erica both ordered a sandwich and Clint only wanted a glass of water. They discussed what to do next and eventually agreed on taking Clint home after which Franky and Erica would head to Erica’s office. 

“We need that boy.” Erica sighed when she dropped her things on her desk. 

“He’s just a witness.” Franky tried to shrug it off. It made Erica realise she hadn’t updated Franky on the situation yet. 

“There you’re wrong. We were actually looking for a new suspect.” 

Franky was taken aback for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

Erica seemed to hesitate.

“You don’t trust me?” Franky jumped to a conclusion. “You think I was going to avenge Frank if I found him first?”

“Franky, I asked for your help. I wouldn’t have done that if I thought that’s what you would do.”

Franky only sent her a gaze of disbelief. 

“I forgot, okay?” Erica urged.

After a moment of hesitation, Franky decided to just go with it. She didn’t feel like getting into another argument, just now things were going well between her and Erica. What, she had even brought the blonde’s daughter to school that morning. She still wasn’t sure if that should be seen as a positive or negative thing. Erica moved around to arrange some things in her office, something the older woman did every morning, Franky had learned. She watched Erica, which was never a burden, and eventually sat down at the visitors’ side of the desk; she still hadn’t upgraded to a seat next to Erica, and she began to wonder if it would ever happen.

“We can’t get any further with this if he doesn’t show up.” Erica continued on Stef’s disappearance. She was still surprised to begin with. The entire morning had gone by in a flash and finally she had a moment to contemplate.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he won’t be at your doorstep anytime soon.” Franky wasn’t being much help. She was chewing on a toothpick she had obtained at the lunchroom. 

“Thank you, Franky.” Erica resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She sighed and buried her face in her hands. Life wasn’t easy on her lately. “I need a vacation.” She mumbled from within her hands.

Franky eyed the woman on the other side for a few silent moments. “Do you trust me?” She asked after a while. Erica looked up, confused. Franky reached in the pocket of her jacket, sliding something across the service of the desk. It was the key to her apartment. “Go home, take some rest, pick your kid up from school. I’ll do your work for the rest of the day.” She was serious. 

The hesitation was visible in Erica’s eyes. She trusted Franky, without a doubt, but even if her boss would march in asking if he could help her out with something, she’d say no; her work was hers. She wanted it perfected, understandable, and it was one of the few things in life that was still in her control. Even though Stef Tobias had just put a question mark behind that. She didn’t find it easy to hand it all over to Franky. 

“I’ll call you if I find anything important.” Franky reassured her. 

Erica took the key, watching it rest in the palm of her hand for a second before she pushed herself out of her seat behind the desk. She allowed herself the day off. 

It was odd to be in Franky’s apartment without Franky around. It made her notice new things. The place had Franky’s scent, which was a new one since her release from Wentworth. Erica figured the ex-con had erased everything that would remind her of the prison; even her shampoo. She wandered around for a moment, picked up a few ornaments and judged Franky’s style. It was modern with a few industrial elements. She liked the large bookcase in the far corner of the living room and the grey couch she had slept on the night before. She found a pin board in the kitchen, her eyes wandering the notes and flyers Franky had put on it. There was a note with a phone number and she wondered whose it was, but she knew it wasn’t her right to ask. Eventually, she made herself a cup of tea, taking a seat on the couch. She couldn’t help but check her phone for any messages from Franky, instead she found Mark’s name on the display. He had tried to call her in the time she had spent in the kitchen. 

“Erica, where are you?” Was the first thing Mark said when she called him back. 

“At work.” She lied. Mark sighed. Erica heard a car honk and it told her the man was driving. At least this would likely make the call a short one. 

“You’ve basically kidnapped our daughter.” 

“She wanted to stay with me, Mark.” Erica explained coolly. To her great surprise, she did not even feel a spark of annoyance rise. Maybe it was because the man had no idea where she was; he was talking to her but all he could do was use words to achieve whatever he wanted to achieve. He couldn’t tower over her, he couldn’t shout in her face. There was a safe distance between them.

“Okay, listen.” Mark took a few seconds to continue his words. “I agree we need some time apart. We both have to think about us, but we can’t let Tara be the victim of it. If she wants to stay with you? Fine, but I want to pick her up from school sometimes and take her home, to my parents, to the park, wherever we went before. I’m her dad.”

As much as Erica didn’t want to, she had to agree. “She’s at school right now.” She spoke softly. “You can pick her up at three if you want. I’ll be there so we can tell her.” 

Mark agreed.

“I’ll see you at three.” They rang off. 

Erica wasn’t looking forward to it, but she knew just as well it was necessary. She decided to sleep until it was time to go.

When Franky came home at six, she rang her own doorbell. She hadn’t had to do that since the last time she had dated a girl and as this was what she associated it with, it was strange to have her door opened by Erica. “Did you sleep?” She asked right away. 

“I tried.” Erica answered.

Franky raised a brow. “Couldn’t sleep?” Before she allowed Erica the opportunity to respond, she continued to speak. “Where’s the kid?” she realised quite quickly it hadn’t been a very tactical question. 

“She’s with Mark.” Erica still had to get used to it. 

Franky was confused. “Did he pick her up from school?” 

Erica nodded. “We agreed that she shouldn’t stay with me all the time. I met Mark at the school and we asked Tara what she wanted. She missed her bed.” She tried to smile.

Franky decided to let the subject rest. She moved to the kitchen table and dropped her bag and jacket on a chair before she joined Erica in the living area. Fortunately, the blonde woman seemed to have dismissed the matter from her mind already. “I’m starving, what about you?” 

“I didn’t eat yet.” Erica explained. 

Franky grinned. “Let’s cook together.” 

Erica liked the idea of getting some distraction, and since she never cooked, it could come in handy to learn some tips and tricks now. A moment later Franky had started to collect flour, garlic powder, salt and black pepper, instructing Erica to cut some chicken into small cubes. She laughed at the way Erica did this, watching the older woman struggle for a few moments to her own amusement before she took position behind Erica’s body. Her hands found Erica’s and she guided the knife through the chicken in a smooth and skilled way. 

Erica couldn’t help but remember the last time Franky had been that close. There was something about Franky invading her personal space that made her unable to think straight, and especially now she didn’t allow herself to let it show; aside from a few small comments, Franky had perfectly kept to their agreement of keeping their relationship professional. And even though she had made it increasingly difficult by asking Franky the favor of having her around at home, the brunette woman did surprisingly well. Even now it only seemed as though Franky was really trying to help, and Erica disliked the fact she was seeking other things in it. 

“That’s it.” Franky approved when Erica’s hands continued the movements she had guided them to follow, even after her hold had been released. She retrieved a skillet and put it on the stove, heating some oil in it. With the previous moment still fresh in her mind, she wondered what it had done to Erica, if anything at all.

When the chicken had been cut into cubes, Erica followed Franky’s instructions and coated the pieces with the mixture of flour and garlic powder Franky had made earlier. She followed further instruction, paying close attention as Franky told her about cutting vegetables and seasoning a dish. She liked the passion Franky had for cooking and it worked contagiously. At some point she found herself enjoying to learn about it.

Franky was content when they had both taken place in the living area, Erica on the couch, she on her favourite chair, plates with rice and sweet chicken on their lap. She wanted to know more about Erica Pearson and so she gently interrogated her. She asked about high school, vacations, friends, and work. By the time Erica had answered it all, Franky knew enough about her to say they were even. They talked some more about Franky’s day behind Erica’s desk and drank a few glasses of red wine.

Eventually, at a late hour, the situation looked promising and inviting, but neither of them dared to pay attention to it. Franky found her pyjama’s where she had left them that morning, changed in the bathroom and wished Erica goodnight before retiring to her bedroom. Erica changed into a loosely fitting shirt she had borrowed from Franky and took her place on the couch. Her mind didn’t fancy sleep yet, however. There was something unresolved about the day. It had started roughly and ended perfectly, but without the icing on the cake it seemed worthless still. She thought about Tara, about Franky, about Mark and about Franky some more. She remembered how the ex-con had treated her in prison and compared it to how she was treated now. She gained more respect even though her position required less and she wondered why. There was something about it she didn’t like. Eventually, there was only one conclusion for herself to draw.

“Franky?” Erica’s feet had carried her into Franky’s room, without her mind explicitly having told them to do so. Franky mumbled a little and switched on the dim light at the side of her bed. “I know I wanted us to be professional, but…” Erica continued when she had Franky’s attention.

Franky used her tattooed arms to prop herself into a seated position. She was wide awake, had been all along. Her mumble had only been an act, but she had dropped it the minute she had realised Erica could be thinking exactly the same as she did. “But?” She insisted. 

“I want you.” Speaking the words were a liberation. Erica felt it throughout her body. She had no idea what to do next, but the mere fact the words were out didn’t make her care at all.

Franky remained calm, her head lightly tilting off to the side. “Move over.”

Erica’s feet didn’t hesitate once again. She found herself at the edge of the bed before she even realised what exactly she was doing and when Franky grabbed the back of her neck with a strong and demanding hold when she lowered herself onto the bed, she switched off her function to think entirely. Sweet and soft lips found her own when she was pulled closer, lips she had tasted before but wanted to continue exploring. It didn’t take long for Franky to take full control. She flipped them over so she would be on top, pinning Erica down to the bed with practiced ease by straddling her body, one leg on each side. Erica found herself lost in the moment. She felt how Franky didn’t waste a moment and eagerly tugged at the hem of her borrowed shirt. She let it slide past her head and shoulders, exposing her chest. Her eyes met Franky’s; the green had turned a shade darker. They showed Franky wanted her as much as the other way around and it was satisfying. Franky tossed the top of her pyjama’s to the floor and Erica’s eyes found the scars scattered all over her stomach. She frowned. 

“What’s that?” Her eyes followed the artsy pattern of the tattoo that was supposed to conceal the small marks across Franky’s olive skin, followed by one of her thumbs tracing that same pattern.

Franky was briefly thrown off guard. She was in a hurry, not ready to talk at all. She was busy taking in the sight in front of her never to forget it again. It took her a few seconds to figure out what Erica was talking about. “Unimportant right now.” She mumbled. Her hand found Erica’s and she pinned it down to the bed. She wasn’t going to waste this moment to talking about her past. 

Erica hesitated. She wanted to know the story behind these scars, but she agreed the moment didn’t call for a conversation like that. She remained silent as she let Franky continue. Franky was thankful and carried on. When her lips found Erica’s neck, she was able to find the off switch of her thoughts again. Erica closed her eyes. She savored in each of Franky’s kisses and gasped for air at gentle bites. Along her neck, her collarbone, her breasts… She heard her own breath shake as arousal grew within her stomach. Franky did the things she had done in Erica’s dreams, and Erica braced for waking up. But instead of opening her eyes, she clenched them shut. She whimpered at the pleasure Franky’s lips and tongue sent through her veins. She felt Franky’s hand between her legs. Her own found the sheets of the bed. She dug her nails into them until her knuckles turned white. And when she came she tried to hold on to the sensational feeling of the orgasm forever. 

Franky rolled off to the side after she had made sure Erica was satisfied. She wiped her hand off on the fabric of her pyjama shorts and watched Erica in the aftermath of her orgasm. She rested on her side, her head on her hand. She gazed at the goosebumps covering Erica’s smooth skin, let her stare travel along Erica’s breasts and eventually found her face. She waited. 

Erica kept her eyes closed until her body was brought back to earth. When she turned her head aside, her stare crossed Franky’s, who grinned at her. She took in the beauty in front of her and returned a smile. 

They spent a few moments in comfortable silence. Franky tried to read Erica’s thoughts through her eyes. Maybe there was regret, contentment, conflict. She couldn’t draw a conclusion from the mysterious blue. She tried to reflect on what she felt. She asked herself what she wanted from Erica. She wondered if they should discuss it now or if they should let it rest for another moment to be brought up. The purpose of sex had always been so clear to her. In prison, it had been to pass the time, before that it was just to forget about everything for a while, and after prison, with Bridget, it meant much more than it ever had before. Erica was somewhere in between. She couldn’t figure out what that meant just yet.

“I’ll let you sleep.” Erica broke the silence with her soft voice after a while. She didn’t wait for a reaction and left the bed. Finding her shirt somewhere on the floor, she tugged it back over her head and evened it out. When Franky still hadn’t said anything, she turned around in the doorway and wished her goodnight. Then she returned to her couch in the living room to fall asleep, alone. 

The next morning she made herself a coffee and some breakfast without waking Franky. She couldn’t shake the night before from her mind, but nor did she want to talk about it, and she mentally cursed herself for letting Mark take Tara home. Without her daughter there, she had nothing to distract her mind. Franky’s sleepy appearance soon joined her at the kitchen table. Without really looking at her, Erica mused. “What are we, Franky? Friends? Colleagues? Lovers?”

Franky scoffed. She cupped her mug of coffee with both hands and stared into it. “Does it matter?”

Erica didn’t answer. She silently finished her breakfast and stored away the dishes. When she stood in front of the mirror in Franky’s bathroom, she noticed she looked tired. She brushed her teeth, applied her makeup and returned to the living room to find her bag of clothes. When she found her phone close to it, she noticed a text from Clint, received two minutes ago:

‘Switch on the news’ It said. 

She quickly picked up the remote control and switched on the TV, zapping to the news channel. When she noticed the headline, her heart sank.


	7. Trust no one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not confident about this chapter, worried it's too over the top.
> 
> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Enjoy reading. :)

“What’s that?” Franky asked curiously after her attention had been drawn to the screen of her television. Erica told her to shush. They were watching a news report. The woman in front of the camera was reporting live from a crime scene. Even with the sound off, her expression made clear she wasn’t talking about sunshine and daisies. Franky focused more so on the things that were going on behind the reporter. She was standing in front of red and white barrier tape. There were people in white suits moving around and the lights of a police car flashed off screen. 

Erica had put the sound on and was now listening intently to what the reporter had to say. It did not take her long to catch on to what she was listening to. “Shit.” She mumbled in shock. 

A couple of seconds later, Franky caught on. “No fucking way.”

“Come on, let’s go.” Erica urged. She was already grabbing her coat and didn’t leave room for any further questions. 

Erica was speeding. There wasn’t a second she could miss of all the havoc that was going down just outside Melbourne city center. When cars weren’t allowed any further, she parked illegally and rushed outside. 

Franky followed, but she was in less of a hurry. She still had some time to think practically and snatched an umbrella from the trunk of Erica’s car before letting the blonde woman lock it. Erica would thank her later, she thought. They were soon standing at the same spot the reporter had been in. Franky tried to catch a glimpse of what the people in white had been working on, but police officers were blocking their way. She stood beside Erica, holding up the umbrella above their heads as the older woman spoke with the leading officer. She recognized the urgency in Erica’s tone of voice. It was the same urgency she had always used in critical situations at Wentworth. It had a certain calmness to it that stood in complete contrast to the message of her words. Franky admired it. 

“I’m afraid this isn’t your business, Miss.” 

Erica was ready to push the officer aside. “It certainly is my business. I’m his lawyer.” It wasn’t a lie entirely.

“Yes, and I’m the president of the United States. I will not ask again, move back.” The officer wasn’t going to budge.

Erica was about to give up when suddenly she spotted the district attorney a bit further up ahead. He was talking to a teenager, but she saw her chance. Before the officer could react, she jolted off into his direction. “Ben!”

Franky was about as surprised as the officer to see Erica jolt off suddenly. She offered the man a sheepish grin and quickly tried to join Erica, yet she wasn’t fast enough and the officer stopped her by grabbing her arm. 

“Miss!” He was about to move over to Erica when the district attorney raised a hand at him. With a grumpy mutter, he let go of Franky’s arm and minded other business. 

“Curious, are we?” Ben Harrold wondered as Erica was within reach. “I’m afraid your firm will not find any fortune on this one. It appears to be suicide.”

Erica shook her head at his misinterpretation. “I’m not here to fetch clients, Ben, I’m here on behalf of one.”

The DA looked thoughtful. “This is turning into a messy situation, Misses Pearson.” 

Erica spent a moment wondering why the man was being secretive, then she realised Franky had appeared next to her. “Don’t worry.” She reassured. “Franky is on the case.”

“Franky Doyle.” He was surprised. “I never would have guessed this is where we would meet again.” He laughed heartily. Erica nor Franky was amused. 

Franky had been wondering, and now she knew for sure, that the man in front of her was the DA that had gotten her seven years’ worth a sentence. Her memory very easily reminded her of how she disliked him. “Life’s strange.” She responded with bitter irony thick in her voice.

Erica sensed the tension between the two, and it didn’t take her that long to realise what was going on. When she caught on, she quickly decided to lead the conversation on a different track. “Did they find any notes on Stef’s body? Indications on why he would kill himself?”

The DA shook his head, his baggy chin swinging underneath his jaw. “Nothing. If they hadn’t found that needle in his arm, my first guess would have been a heart attack.”

Erica nodded slowly. Even though Clint had tipped her on the news broadcast, she had taken no time to talk to her client yet. Now that she was on the crime scene and Ben Harrold was giving her answers to the questions she had come with, she would leave with even more questions for Clint. 

“You look disappointed.” The DA observed. 

“A note could have possibly helped me.” She spotted the curiosity she raised in the man’s mind. She hated to be this casual about it, but it was necessary to meet with Ben’s attitude. Even though she would not meet him in court until next Friday, the game was always on. Had been since the moment they had read each other’s names above the file. She had read this article about lawyers and district attorneys holding fiery battles in court, but drinking a beer together afterward. She would never go out for a drink with Ben Harrold.

Franky was intrigued. She was witnessing two masterminds in a battle of wit. They were playing a game of chess and Erica had made a move. Franky wondered how many steps the blonde had looked ahead with leaving Ben Harrold behind with question in his eyes and asked once they had returned to the car. “Left him to wonder on purpose?”

“The more time he spends on trying to figure out what I’m up to, the less he spends on his own plea.” Erica shrugged. She tried to dial Clint’s number while driving and when the man picked up after a while, she told him they were coming over. 

They found Clint at home, still in his pajamas. He had absentmindedly invited them in and had walked back to the living room, where he sat down on his couch and stared blankly at the television. Erica sat across from him on a chair. 

“Clint…” She tried to draw his attention. Her brows raised in question.

Franky remained standing. She moved around the ground floor of the house and tried to locate the kitchen without asking. Her throat had gone a little dry and she was keen for a glass of water. When she arrived in the kitchen, her eyes instantly fell on a couple of empty beer cans. She wondered how long they had been there for. Forgetting about her glass of water, she took one in each hand and walked back into the living room. When Erica looked up at her, she held the cans up, shrugging meaningfully. 

Erica sighed. She closed her eyes for a moment. Clint had continued to stare at the television; the same channel that had broadcast the news, only now there was some teleshopping program on. “Clint, have you been drinking?” She tried not to lose her patience. 

“Hey.” Franky’s voice was loud. It was a little rash, but it worked. Clint snapped out of it and turned his head to look at her. “She’s asking you a question, man.” 

When Clint turned to face her, Erica noticed a newly formed deep frown on his face. “Have you eaten anything yet?” She asked. Her questions could wait for a while. The man’s wellbeing was a little more important now. For the first time, she sympathized with him. She could only imagine how terrible it would be to lose a child. She imagined holding Tara’s lifeless body and then closed her eyes, telling herself to snap out of it. The thought was making her feel sick.

Clint shook his head and Erica sent Franky a nod. A few silent minutes later, the brunette returned with an omelet and put it in front of Clint on a small table. 

“Listen, Clint, are you listening?” The man nodded. “Are you aware of the situation?” Erica didn’t get the feeling her words were really coming through. After a few moments Clint’s hand reached for a piece of paper on the couch and he reached it out for Erica to take. It was a handwritten letter and the first thing Erica noticed was the name at the bottom: Stef. Her heart skipped a beat; no note on the boy’s body, but a note at his home. 

Franky waited until Erica had read the letter, switching off the TV in the meantime. She sat down in another chair and let her gaze shift around the place. Clearly, Clint had been out of his routine for quite the while now, if he ever had any. There were cobwebs in every corner of the room and the windows looked like a sandstorm had hit them recently. She ran her fingers across a nearby shelf and wrinkled her nose in disgust when the tips had gone grey with dust. 

“It doesn’t say why he did it… but Ben was right. It’s suicide.” Erica whispered to herself after a while. She couldn’t hide the disappointment from her voice. Clint just continued staring ahead of him, leaving his omelet untouched. 

“I think he needs a cold shower.” Franky suggested after a few moments. 

“Let’s help him upstairs.” Erica answered. 

They pulled Clint up from the couch and guided him upstairs, into the bathroom. Franky got the water running and Erica tried to get Clint back to his senses. When they had gotten him as far as to take the shower, they sat down on the man’s bed together. 

“He’s in shock.” Franky mumbled. 

Erica sighed. “Can you blame him?” Reality had hit her now and her hands were shaking. Despite her attempt at emotional containment, this case laid heavy on her heart. Stef’s suicide had just added an extra bit of weight to that.

“Now we don’t have to worry about defending the kid anymore.” Franky pulled her dark brows up, making the green of her eyes even more visible in the morning light brought inside by the sun.

Erica grimaced. “It will all look too… convenient. I mean it’s ridiculous, but the DA will do his best to make it seem like this was all the plan. Stef’s testimony was the only proof we had that he was behind Frank’s murder.” She could still hardly grasp onto that herself. “Now that we don’t have that anymore, it’s easy for us to claim it was him. After all, now he’s dead, what harm will it do him anyway?” Erica shook her head. “It would require a twisted mind to even think of that, but Ben will suggest we did think it through.”

Franky took a few moments to let it all sink in. she tried to put two and two together, then mused. “Stef was the only proof we had…” something dawned upon her. “The only proof he did or didn’t do it, Erica.”

“What are you saying?” Erica was curious, despite still largely unsettled. Franky keeping her cool was something she was grateful for. 

“You said Stef mentioned nothing in his letter?” Erica confirmed Franky’s words with a nod. “What if he didn’t actually do it? What if he was going to lag on his father in court?”

Releasing a scoff, Erica shook her head. She followed exactly where Franky was heading and couldn’t believe it had even come to the other woman’s mind. “Have you seen him?” She pointed at the bathroom door. 

Franky shrugged. “Maybe he’s a good actor.”

“Franky, that’s ridiculous! He just lost his son!” Erica felt as if she was defending herself, as a parent. 

“We have to at least consider it.” Franky paused a second. “The district attorney will.”

Franky had a point and Erica had to admit it. Even if the situation remained a speculation, if they didn’t prepare for it, the DA could easily sell it as the truth to the jury; Stef was aware of his father’s deeds and was finally prepared to testify in court, but Clint wouldn’t let that happen… “Easy,” Erica mumbled. “The whole reason Clint would want to kill Frank Harvey was because his son always had conflict with the teacher. What sense would it make if he appears willing to kill his son too?”

“It’s common for people who committed a crime to have much less control over doing it again. I mean, look at how many girls returned to Wentworth after being released…” Franky shrugged. “It could have been panic.”

“You don’t just kill someone you love in a panic attack.” Erica criticized. She let her shoulders hang. 

“Not when you’re sober…” Franky remembered the empty beer cans. “People are capable of shit when they are drunk. Remember Liz.”

“You really think he would kill his own son?” Erica found it truly hard to believe. 

“It’s plausible. He was drunk, killed Stef, dumped him at the crime scene, woke up the next morning only to found out his son was missing without remembering the night before.”

“And the letter?” 

Franky needed to think before answering that. “Maybe he found out what he had done and wrote the letter to give his ass a cover.”

“I don’t know, Franky, it sounds-” Erica’s sentence was cut off by Clint marching into the room in fresh clothes. He looked a bit better, but his eyes were still hollow. She stared at him for a second and concluded no one could act that well. He didn’t seem a broken man, he was a broken man. 

Just as they were about to clean up the living room, a handful of police officers appeared at the door. Franky assumed they were there to inform Clint on what they had found out about Stef’s ‘suicide’, but instead the men and women in uniform walked right past her without being invited in. the officer in front grabbed the handcuffs from his belt and before Erica could set the vacuum cleaner aside, Clint was taken to their car, arrested for the murder of his son. What was supposed to be an afternoon of cleaning, had turned into an afternoon at the police station. When at 5 AM Clint was still not addressable, the police sent Erica and Franky home, telling them to return the next day.

The drive back to Franky’s apartment was silent. They both spent thirty minutes processing the events of the day. The police had found Clint’s DNA all over the place and considering the man’s situation, they didn’t want to take the risk of letting him walk around freely with the potential to kill anyone else. Erica couldn’t catch onto it, even though Franky’s story sounded plausible. She couldn’t even begin to understand why someone would kill their own child. 

Franky only became more convinced of her theory every minute of the way. When they perched on the couch in her living room, she spoke up. “Told you that guy was dangerous.”

“Don’t even begin.” Erica sighed. “I already told them it’s only logical to find Clint’s DNA there. I mean, they’re living in the same place. If I wound up dead they would probably find your DNA too.”

“If he’s indeed the fucker that killed my friend, I say he gets what’s coming to him.” Franky concluded. No response came. “Let’s hit the bar?” She offered a cheeky grin.

Scoffing, Erica mumbled. “On Wednesday?” Franky shrugged. Erica shook her head. “You go, I’m going to Clint’s garage.”

Franky sighed and she let her shoulders hang. “Where’s your sense for fun?” She nudged Erica’s shoulder. The blonde woman had always been all about work ever since Franky had laid eyes on her. She had begun to wonder if Erica even knew how to relax.

Five minutes later she was walking down the street, alone. Just because Erica wasn’t up for a bit of fun, didn’t mean she couldn’t go. She walked with her hands casually stuffed in her pockets and observed her surroundings. Not much was going on; it was around dinner time so most families spent their time inside. Only a few stray souls wandered the streets at this time. She had told Erica to come over after she was done at the garage, but she wasn’t positive the older woman would actually wind up coming. When she found the entrance to the bar, she noticed Patrick was gone and a young, red-haired man with a slim and clumsy posture had replaced him. She wondered if her listening ear would ever return because she didn’t feel like opening up to this fellow. She sat at her usual spot at the bar and order a beer. When she looked aside she spotted Sue, who seemed to look older with every drink she had, and something made her decide to move over.

“Sue, right?” She tried to catch the older woman’s attention. When Sue looked up, Franky noticed the woman looked even older than she thought. Her grey long hair usually covered a big part of her face and the wrinkles along with it. The one thing that stood out were her pitch black irises. 

“What’s it to you?” Sue was clearly wary. It instantly became clear to Franky this lady was built out of distrust and sore memories. 

Franky shrugged. “Just feel like a chat.” She took a swig of her beer.

Sue’s wary expression turned into an indifferent one. “I don’t have any interesting life story to tell you.” 

Another look at Sue’s features had Franky vaguely curious. “I’ve got this feeling I know you.”

“We’re both regulars here.” Sue didn’t seem impressed by Franky’s curiosity. She downed the drink that made Franky’s nostrils flare at the strong scent of alcohol and ordered another without any care. The new boy was slow at pouring it. 

“Where’s Patrick?” Franky asked the minute he had returned to put a new glass in front of Sue. 

“On vacation.” The boy answered and tended to someone else. Meanwhile, Sue had taken a seat further away from Franky. 

Franky decided to leave it, her fingers tapping impatiently against the glass of her beer. With Patrick gone and Erica not there, she hoped something interesting would happen soon. Erica had been right; Wednesdays were empty and boring. They called for unemployed middle-aged men and types like Sue. She wondered what she was doing there and just as she was about to text Erica and leave, her eyes fell upon a figure. Her heart skipped a beat and she sat paralysed in her barstool. 

Erica met with the mechanic called Mike at the garage. They were just about to close the place, but he was willing to talk to her for a second. Apparently, Clint had made him run the garage for the time being. He offered her a cup of coffee and she kindly refused like last time. 

When they had both sat down on a plastic chair, Erica asked. “Mike, are you familiar with any drinking problems Clint might have?”

Mike thought for a second. “He came to work a little buzzed sometimes the weeks after his wife had died.” He seemed to realize something. “But we always sent him home then. He never worked while he was drunk.”

“Don’t worry.” Erica reassured. “That’s not why I’m asking. Are you aware of his son’s death?” Mike shook his head and Erica explained. She waited as it was a lot to take in for the man on the other side and she noticed the red Ford from her last visit was still there. 

“You think Clint would kill his own kid?” Mike huffed.

“I want to know how he behaves under the influence of alcohol. It’s all I came here to ask.” Erica kept her calm. 

“He usually got angry when we tried to send him home.” Mike admitted. “But he wasn’t aggressive or anything. The lad was going through a rough time. No one really blamed him. Besides, we haven’t seen him drunk in God knows how long so he dropped the habit.” 

Erica nodded, wondering if there was anything else she could achieve here. She eventually decided she knew enough for now. It was hard to judge if Mike was telling her the truth. She wasn’t sure. Checking the time, she also concluded it would be too late to join Franky if she continued this now. She offered Mike a hand to shake and he showed her out, this time keeping his gaze where it was appropriate. Erica found it a curious change of attitude, but she figured it was all because he distrusted her. Clint’s entire environment distrusted her and it didn’t make things any easier. When she checked her phone, she frowned. 

Franky had watched the figure as it moved closer. It was a man, bald and sturdily built. She recognized him from that time she had visited Boomer with Paul, and back then she had recognized him from a whole different event. 

“Hey!” Before thinking it through, she called him over.

The man looked surprised, but he moved over. He instantly seemed to recognize her. 

“This is the second time I’ve seen you now.” It could have been nothing, but it gave her the feeling something was off. “Are you following me?” Two times could have been coincidental, but they were two times at places she visited regularly. She was suspicious still. 

“When was the first time?” The man sat down on the stool next to her and ordered two beers, one for her as well. 

“You know.” Franky recognized games. She didn’t like to become a player. “Are you still connected to Pennisi?” She figured she could ask questions out in the open here. He couldn’t do anything about it if he wanted. 

“He went off television after you…” Franky sent him a warning glare. “After what happened to him. I haven’t seen him since.”

Franky easily told he was lying. It didn’t concern her. The reason why did. “Bullshit. You worked with him for how long? You very fucking clearly were thick as thieves.” She remembered how Mike Pennisi's sidekick on the cooking show had always roared with laughter at his stupid jokes and mocking. She might have hated him as much as she hated Pennisi himself. She still did. 

“That’s all show, Franky. He wasn’t happy that I took over his program.”

Franky narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You know. I keep meeting these old familiars recently and until today I kind of liked it, but you showed your face and I changed my opinion.”

The man shrugged. 

“How’s he doing? Pennisi?” Franky tested him.

“I wouldn’t know.” He wasn’t stupid enough to drop his guard.

“What the fuck were you doing at Wentworth?” He came with another excuse; visiting his cousin. Franky decided to look into that. She would find out if that girl was his cousin indeed because she didn’t trust Dan Marshall for a second. 

Erica had parked her car near the bar Franky had given her the address of and just as she was moving inside, Franky was leaving. She caught the younger woman in the middle, but Franky wouldn’t explain anything until they were outside. 

“I don’t trust this.” Franky ended her explanation with suspicion. It was raining again and this time they didn’t have an umbrella. Erica still saw it as a strange coincidence, but she didn’t argue. “How was the garage?”

Erica shrugged. “Clint went to work drunk sometimes, but it doesn’t really mean anything. It is only worth taking a mental note of.” 

Franky nodded and when she looked aside, she noticed Erica was shivering. She had brought a jacket, since she had gone walking, but Erica was only dressed in her loose fitting short sleeved shirt and pencil skirt. She offered the older woman the jacket and Erica took it gratefully. 

They were about halfway to the car when Franky broke the silence. “Would you mind talking about last night?” She was careful. 

Erica grinned humourlessly. “I didn’t expect you would want to talk about it.”

“You just want to let it pass?” Franky wondered. 

Erica shrugged and stopped walking for a second. “I don’t know what I want.” She felt vulnerable suddenly. She had always known what she wanted. She had wanted a good career, a caring husband, to be a mother, to be successful. In the blink of an eye, all those goals had been clouded by fog and she was left with doubt and uncertainties. It made her mind go hazy. 

Franky stepped forward and invaded Erica’s personal space. Not to charm the other woman into anything, or make her confusion even bigger, but simply to offer comfort. She knew how much a hug could do and so she wrapped her arms around Erica’s slim frame and just held her close for a few moments. In silence. She was happy to have Erica return the embrace. It was a sign of peace. After all these years they had finally come to it and from there on they could move forward in whatever direction. There was one thing Franky knew for sure: Erica was special to her. She had no idea if that feeling was returned, but she was grateful the older woman was there with her now. The rain slowly soaked them and Franky started to shiver too, but she refused to let Erica return the jacket to her. They continued their way to Erica’s car in silence and the drive back to Franky’s apartment was a comfortable one. 

When they entered the apartment and Franky had locked herself into the bathroom to shower, Erica received a text from Mark: ‘Tara and I miss you. Let’s try to work this out.’


End file.
